


At First Sight

by MayaAodhan



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU!Supernatural, Blind Castiel, Cop!Dean, M/M, police/professor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-23
Updated: 2015-08-05
Packaged: 2018-04-10 19:23:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 24,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4404263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MayaAodhan/pseuds/MayaAodhan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. </p><p>Blinded in the line of duty as a decorated police officer, Castiel Novak now teaches classes at Washington State University as an Associate Professor. </p><p>Detective Dean Winchester comes to find Castiel to tell him that a violent criminal he once arrested is now getting out on parole. Instantly attracted to Castiel, Dean finds himself in a difficult position when he must protect the very man he is falling in love with.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sure about this one. It was an idea I had for a story a long while ago. Thought it might work for Destiel. Yes? Not really?
> 
> edit - thank you very much for the support!
> 
> Also, I hope that I get the information about sight impairment correct. I have done as much research as I could. I have spoken to people with sight impairment. If I get anything wrong I very sincerely apologise and the fault is entirely my own. I wanted to present Castiel as a blind character whose experience in the world isn't negative, it just is. I don't want to pretend to represent blindness, as that is impossible for a sighted person like me to do. I have just tried to do my best to present it realistically.

_"Actioni contrariam semper et æqualem esse reactionem: sive corporum duorum actiones in se mutuo semper esse æquales et in partes contrarias dirigi."_ Castiel Novak’s voice echoed around the auditorium. "Who can tell me what it means?

Silence from the audience.

"Come on, ladies and gentlemen! Take a guess. The prizewinner can claim Supreme Ruler for the week."

Groaning laughter cropped up around Dean Winchester as he glanced around. His fingers were loosely linked upon his flat belly; the only one who had no lecture pad filled with scribbles in front of him. One booted foot was crossed over the knee of the other, and it jiggled impatiently for the lecture to be over.

"Well then, if you can figure out what it means between now and next lesson, you can read up on it and be prepared for the short quiz for your labs next week."

"Sir!" The protest came from a skeletally thin young man up the front, "That ain't fair! This is Physics, not…not…Dead Languages 101."

The smile remained. Blue eyes seemed to bore a hole straight through the student's bony chest. The kid sat back, silenced.

"You are going to hear this a lot in coming years, Christopher, so get used to hearing it; life isn't fair." Castiel raised his head to glance around the room. Christopher blushed furiously and looked down at his lap.

Dean studied the face of the professor with the critical eyes of a cop. He was about his height, six, six one, dark brown hair flopped over his forehead in straight strands desperately in need of a cut, his strong, lean features were carefully shaved. He had a compact build with long narrow fingers that gripped the lectern.

Dean knew Castiel couldn't see him watching so intently, but it nonetheless made him feel uncomfortably voyeuristic. He had wanted to watch him teach, having heard his name around the precinct several times. And now the lecture was almost done, he found he understood physics no better, but had gained a new appreciation for the once highly decorated SWAT officer.

"Now get out of here, you have the reading assignment." Castiel shut down the projector with the press of a button, plunging the room into darkness before bringing up the lights for the sighted in the room to make their way out of doors.

Dean watched carefully as students spoke to the professor, asking about assignments upcoming, or a hint to his obscure Latin phrase. He was gathering his papers with meticulous gestures, and after about ten minutes they were left alone.

Dean watched Castiel pick up his messenger bag, slide a folder into it and fumble a moment with the catch. Then a low whistle and soft words were heard from behind the podium and he watched with interest as a black Labrador appeared from behind the dais and sat waiting for the reapplication of her harness. A low murmur again and Castiel straightened.

Dean rose from his chair then, determined to make her presence known.

"Who's there?" Castiel paused beside the lectern, bag crosswise over his shoulder and one hand upon the harness.

"My apologies if I startled you, Professor Novak," Dean called down, walking down the tiers of stairs, his booted feet thumping loudly. "My name is Dean Winchester, I’m a detective with the Seattle PD."

A dark brow rose in surprise. "Have I done something wrong, Detective?"

"No, sir." Dean moved to stand in front of the damn fine looking university lecturer.

"What can I do for you, Detective?"

"Malachi Taylor is being released on parole next week," Dean announced abruptly, not bothering to sugar coat the bad news.

Castiel's hand tightened suddenly on the harness, and his dog looked up at him in confusion, head tilting, chocolatey eyes concerned. A soft whine came from her throat.

"How is that possible?" Castiel asked flatly.

"He turned evidence a couple years ago on a man that was being sought for conviction in return for a reduced sentence."

Castiel's fingertips went to his brow. He sighed. Another soft whine came from his dog's throat, "Hush, Shy. It's alright." He reached down and touched his dog on the head.

"Thank you for letting me know, Detective Winchester." His voice was rough, hoisting his shoulder bag over his head.

“We have no reason to believe he will break his parole conditions, Professor.”

“Yeah. I’m sure he is a reformed citizen.”

“This is my number. Please call me if you are concerned about anything.”

Castiel held out his hand and Dean placed his business card down. Castiel closed his hand and tucked it into his pocket. “Thank you, Detective. If you will excuse me, I have a meeting to get to.”

“Sure. Yeah.” Dean followed the man out, ignoring the reproachful look from the dog.

Castiel paused long enough to snap out a black cane and strode off down the corridor, guided by the lab, his cane skimming the path in front. Dean watched him go, and lifted his phone to his ear when it buzzed.

“Winchester.”

 _“Dean? It’s Benny. I have finished up with questioning Taylor’s parole officer. Meet you at the precinct?”_ His partner’s Cajun drawl sounded richly in his ear.

“Yeah.”

_“Finished with the prof?”_

“Yep. He wasn’t happy.”

_“No shit, buddy.”_

Dean hung up and headed to his car. Yeah.

_Castiel leant against the wall outside the compound for a moment, eyes narrowed as he listened on the comm. He glanced across at the man waiting for his direction on the other side of the door, dressed in full SWAT uniform. A bright smile flashed across Gabe’s face, accompanied by a wink. Castiel hefted his weapon across his chest with his right hand, as the signal came through his comms. He jerked his head, and pointed at the door with two fingers. Gabe gave him that irrepressible smile, straightened, squared up and raising a booted foot, crushed the lock, swung the door open. Castiel covered him in his entrance then followed._

_A man dressed in combat fatigues and a dirty shirt appeared at the top of the stairs, firing down on them. Gabe shot the guy, a bullet punching him hard in the chest. He went down. Guns sighting high, they headed upstairs, covering each other from floor to floor. There was a burst of static from their comms._

_The target was sighted at the end of the hallway, barricading himself in a room._

_Castiel slid into cover behind a side turned table as fire peppered on them through billowing smoke. He sent through the message they were pinned down._

_The tear gas washed over them, but their masks were in place._

_They exchanged weapon fire for a time. Castiel got on the comms. “Flash bang, north corridor. Five seconds.”_

_He hurled the tiny device down the corridor, shut his eyes briefly at the flare of light. Firing ceased for several seconds. They advanced toward the door while the other team dealt with their assailants._

_Castiel tried the door. It was unlocked. He glanced at Gabe to see if he was ready. He got the nod and gun raised, he went through low._

  
_The explosion had so much heat in it. Impossible heat. So much light. He couldn’t close his eyes in time, then it didn’t matter. He was thrown back against the wall, his head sickeningly crunching. Then there was nothing. His last thought was for Gabe. Was he still alive?_


	2. Chapter 2

Castiel sat on his couch, shirtless, with a beer in hand, barely listening to the muted sounds of the television program. The canned laughter was not heightening his mood. His unseeing gaze was affixed upon the wall opposite, as Shy rested her sympathetic chin upon his lap. His spare hand rubbed her ears. Bloody hell. Malachi Taylor. After the year it took to run him to ground and drag him before a court of his peers, he would now be able to walk the streets like a normal…relatively normal…human being.

A long pull of the beer ensued, draining it's lukewarm contents. He sighed and levered himself up off the furniture. He headed for the kitchen, his fingertips tracing the back of the couch. Rubbish bin at knee height. Drop beer bottle within. About face, reaching for the cool metal of the refrigerator. Door open. Run fingers over the labels on the shelves. Withdraw a container. Run fingers over the lid. God bless Ellen, her cooking kept him from the doors of starvation. Two steps left. Reach up. Microwave. Timer hit four times - two minute heating time. Castiel stood waiting, rubbing his hand absently across his chest, the muscles compact and still well defined, despite his permanent absence from the SWAT unit that had taken down Malachi.

Shy welcomed him back to the couch with a lick to the knee.

"Hey girl," Castiel sought for, and picked up a piece of meat from his plastic tub and held it out. "Gentle." He barely felt the dog take it from his fingertips. "Good girl."

A long pause for eating.

"So, was the detective good looking?" Castiel queried his dog. “He sounded hot. Good voice. Strong. Certain.”

Shy made a huffing sound.

"Really? That good?"

The sound of Shy licking her chops amused him.

"I trust your judgement, beautiful." Castiel fed her another chunk of meat. Totally against the rules - but screw it.

 

He lay in bed, hands clasped behind his head, staring contemplatively at the ceiling.

"You think I'm in trouble with Malachi?"

Shy huffed from her position from her bed on the floor.

"Yeah. Should call Gabe."

A soft bark.

"Good thinking."

 

Dean punched the leather bag, sending it swinging. He followed with a left, a right, and another left.

"What has you so wound up?" Benny drawled, sitting up from where he had been bench pressing.

Dean slammed the back of his fist knuckle deep into the battered red leather.

"Nothin'," he replied, sweat darkening his shirt.

"Yeah? Coulda fooled me…" the rejoinder was dry.

"Novak lost his sight because of Taylor, Benny." Dean rounded on his partner, swiping the back of a glove across his brow.

Benny Lafitte shrugged his broad shoulders. "Some things aren’t in the realm of our control, brother.”

"Yeah well, one of the best SWAT guys in the business now teaches entitled little brats? Come on, Benny."

Benny watched his partner belt on the punching bag a few more times. "Maybe it's what he wanted to do?"

"He's blind." Dean replied, before repeating vehemently. "He was one of the best!"

"That's the hand fate dealt him."

"Bull. That's the hand Malachi Taylor dealt him."

"Why do you care?"

"Damned if I know." Dean half heartedly smacked the bag and sighed. "Just…isn't fair."

"Life isn't fair, brother." Benny laughed, standing to shift across to the pull up bar.

"That's what he said." Dean stripped off his gloves, his lips quirking a little.

"Smart guy."

Dean flipped a towel around his neck and grinned. He and Benny had been partnered for five years, since he got out of the organised crime task force.

"Lectures physics at UWA?" Dean snorted. "Yeah, the guy is a fucking genius compared to the likes of me."

"And hot?" A lifted brow from Benny as he finished his set of pull ups. He knew Dean was gay, and aside from teasing about his hopeless past boyfriends (which Dean had been forced to agree with) and Dean’s lack of ability to commit longer than a few months, he was one of the most easy going guys Dean had met.

"Yeah…" a pause. "Wait…" Another pause. "Yeah. He is." A sigh from the younger man.

"C’mon brother, I’m done with my workout. If you are finished, I can drop ya home.”

“Deal.”

  
  


Dean shoved his frozen dinner into the microwave, slammed the door, bleeped numbers that more or less equated to the demands on the cardboard packaging. His Birman cat, Trouble, sat blinking bright blue eyes at him from the kitchen top.

"What?" Dean protested. "It has vegetables in it!" He examined the cover photograph. "Carrots…potatoes…something that resembles beans. Or maybe broccoli."

A squeak from the white haired tyrant of the house.

"Yeah, I hate it too, but what mum says goes. More vegetables."

Dean pulled out a bottle of beer, popped the top and leaned back against the kitchen cabinet to wait for the beep from his cheap microwave. He contemplated the events of the day, staring at the rather grotty floor of his kitchen. Castiel Novak was at the forefront of his thoughts. The guy had gotten a raw deal. Blinded in the operation to catch Taylor, leaving the job he loved. Dean didn’t know what he would do in the same situation. For starters he didn’t have half the brains Professor Novak seemed to have.

The microwave dinged for his attention.

"Come on, Trouble, lets check out the latest on the idiot box. CSI is on, helping our clients out nightly," Dean picked up the plastic tray of heated meat and vegetables with a tea towel and headed to his tiny lounge-room.

Trouble jumped up on the back of the couch and wriggled to a lying position as Dean turned on the TV and settled in, the channel still switched to a local news station.

"Stop begging," Dean growled, "It's beneath you."

A news report blared to life. The waxy features of Malachi Taylor appeared on screen, earnest beside the sharp face of his drug money lawyer. Words scrolled across the screen and Dean barely paid attention as he ate the tasteless meal.

_Mister Clarke claimed he knew nothing of the attack on the former SWAT officer, Jai Hung. Mister Hung is in hospital after a shooting at his home last night. Sources say he was a member of the team that arrested Mister Clarke at his remote compound several years ago._

Dean straightened. "What?" He set aside his beer.

_Taylor's lawyer says that his client is just happy to be with his family and celebrating his eldest son's twentieth birthday._

Dean muted the volume on the television. He picked up his mobile and before he could bring up Benny’s number, his partner was already calling.

_"Did you see it?_ " came the hollow voice from the other end of the line.

"Yeah," Dean said flatly.

_"Sounds like we are going to have an early start."_

"Yup,"

_“I’m sure you won’t mind checking in with the professor. Gaze on his pretty face, ogle his flexing muscles, admire his huge-”_

“Benny!” Dean snarled.

_“Brain…_ ” Benny finished.

“Fuck you, Benny.”

_“You love it. See you at six.”_

“Yeah, asshole, see you.”

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

“For those of you unaware of the background to the situation with Malachi Taylor, I want you to read up on the files. But the Cliff Notes version - after a prolonged investigation, a team of six SWAT members entered the residence of Malachi Taylor on the 7th June, 2007. There was a prolonged firefight. Two members of the team, Castiel Novak and Gabriel Speight cornered Taylor in his home. There was an explosion, a booby trap according to the investigators, that Novak triggered. He lost his sight in the explosion.”

"No surprises on the roster. I’m putting Fitzgerald and Harvelle with Winchester and Lafitte on the Taylor release. We have obviously got some problems in the street right now. The attempted murder on Sergeant Hung last night has all the ear-markings of Taylor’s work." Captain Bobby Singer glared at them all, his beard bristling fiercely. "Winchester and Lafitte, I want you to get back to WSU and talk to Professor Novak. It's only fair that he is apprised of the situation and that we intend to provide protection for any members of that team no longer in SWAT. You will need to talk to the Senior Professor of his faculty. Inform him that we might need to put in twenty four hour protection. Novak is a soft target despite his history."

Silence held the room for a moment. Nine years ago, every cop in the room had known of Castiel Novak. Even the new guys had heard of his exploits. The explosion that had blinded the man,  had also sent a shudder through the ranks.

Detective Ellen Harvelle stuck up her hand. “How many are talking about, Captain? How many members of that team aren’t in SWAT anymore.”

“Four. Castiel Novak, Gabriel Speight, Michael Cohen and Hannah Carroll. Sergeant Hung remained with Seattle PD, transferring to the Hostage Negotiation Team and Lieutenant Rachel Salomaa is serving up in the North Precinct. Carroll’s last known location was New Orleans and Cohen runs a coffee shop in downtown Seattle. Harvelle, I want you and Fitzgerald to tag Cohen this morning, then arrange for uniforms to increase patrols in the area. The address of his shop is in his file.”

“Yes, sir.” Ellen nodded.

"We look out for our own. Get to work, people."

Benny tossed the keys of the sedan to Dean. "You drive, I hate the damn traffic through that area. You need the patience of a saint."

"You’re pathetic," Dean retorted, sliding into the seat behind the wheel. "Come on, snowflake, let's get going. We want to talk to Novak before he gets to his first class."

They found a parking space at the northern end of the campus and strolled through the gathering students unfortunate enough to have early morning lectures. Bleary eyes regarded their progress, a few whispers behind hands but, used to it, the two detectives just made their way to the Physics faculty.

A secretary was at her desk, collecting papers from a couple of students who had the wide eyed twitchiness of too much caffeine.

"Is Castiel Novak in his office, ma'am?" Benny queried of the woman, flashing his ID.

"Uhhh." The woman blinked eyes rendered large and watery by thick spectacles. "He isn't in any trouble is he?"

"No, ma'am," Benny smiled reassuringly as Dean surveyed the corridor.

"He came in about twenty minutes ago. His office is the third on the left down there." The woman pointed in the appropriate direction.

"Thank you for your help." Benny winked at her.

"You're…welcome?" the woman replied uneasily.

Benny knocked on the door with the name 'C. Novak' in large letters, underneath was the same in Braille.

"Come in," came the voice from behind the door.

Benny turned the door knob and paused in the doorway. "My apologies for the interruption, Professor Novak. My name is Benny Lafitte, I’m a Detective with the Seattle PD. I’m here with my partner, Dean Winchester. You met him yesterday." Benny flashed his ID again.

Dean peered around Benny’s shoulder into the room. Castiel was behind his desk, clearly interrupted in his discussion with a man somewhere in his mid-40s, dark blonde hair and twinkling dark brown eyes.

"Detectives." The stranger stood up, a smile creasing his features pleasantly as he introduced himself. "Gabriel Speight. Call me Gabe." Gabe was shorter than Castiel, his smile ready, his handshake firm as he held out his hand to first Benny, then Dean. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

“You are Officer Gabriel Speight?” Dean looked to Benny in some surprise. He hadn’t paid much attention to the photos of the other members of the SWAT unit, but with his longer hair, dark suit and brightly patterned tie, Gabriel Speight looked like he should be wheeling and dealing in finance.

"Retired now. Private sector," Gabe smiled, although those twinkling eyes narrowed a little.

Aside from the invitation to enter, Castiel had not yet spoken. Dean studied him briefly. He had his head turned slightly, was fidgeting with a pen on his desk.

“Detectives?” Gabe’s mouth was twisted a little in amusement. “How can we help the Seattle PD?”

"Sergeant Jai Hung was shot last night," Dean began bluntly, hands tucked now into his pockets.

"Is he alive?" Castiel queried urgently, standing suddenly from behind his desk.

"He is still in ICU. It was a close thing. I'm sorry to tell you like this, but it is important you were kept apprised of the situation. Both of you," Dean studied one man then the other. His gaze was drawn back to Castiel. He noticed his fists were clenched. A soft sound came from behind the desk, a querying whine.

"Hush, Shy," Castiel murmured softly.

Dean hesitated, glancing at Benny. "Look, Mister Novak, obviously we are concerned for both of you. But with your..uh…situation, sir, we feel extra precautions are necessary."

"Because I'm blind?" Castiel asked flatly.

"Yes," Dean replied, equally blunt.

Gabe just glanced at Benny and grinned. He folded his arms across his chest and glanced between Dean and Castiel.

"And how does the Seattle PD, fine as they might be, propose to protect my helpless arse?" Castiel rose his eyebrows, his tone sardonic.

"We will put regular patrols past your house. The Professor in charge of your department, and the Dean of the University, will be informed, and we will ensure that you will have an immediate response if you call the department for assistance."

"How kind." Castiel scowled, leaning forward, giving Dean the unnerving experience of feeling like those bright blue eyes were staring into his soul. "And what is being done to put Malachi Taylor back where he belongs?"

There was a long pause as Dean’s hands clenched in his pockets and he scowled at the immaculate surface of Castiel’s desk.

“The parole board agreed to release Mister Taylor. It will be under strict conditions and he will be monitored constantly.”

"Maybe if one or two of my team are killed then you can do something." Castiel’s tone sharped. “Or perhaps it would be better if it were I. Better press.”

"You are blind, Mister Novak, not stupid." Dean scowled. "We weren't prepared for what happened to Sergeant Hung. We are now. We want to put surveillance on you and your place for a while. And if need be, we can provide twenty four hour protection if we feel your life is in immediate danger."

"Sounds good." Gabe broke in, clearing his throat before Castiel could finish whatever he was about to say. "I'm also setting you up with a decent damn monitored alarm, Cas, and you are gonna use it. Not like that piece of junk you have now that you never turn on."

Castiel lowered himself back into his chair and scowled, "That is not necessary."

"Tough." Gabe turned to the two detectives. "I owe Cas more than a few."

Benny took a card from his wallet and held it out.  "If you need to get in contact, my number is on there - the department and…" he scribbled on the back with a pen fetched from his jacket pocket. “...my mobile."

"Thanks." Gabe tucked the white card into his wallet.

"If you all have finished organising my damn life, I will thank you all to go away so I can get to class. Gabe, thanks for coming around," Castiel’s voice was faintly annoyed, "Detectives, don't let me keep you."

A soft command was given, and the chocolate lab appeared from behind the desk, pressing against Gabe's legs. He attached the harness with deft movements. He hefted his messenger bag and stalked toward the door without a backward glance.

"Mister Novak?" Dean reached out and touched the sleeve of his shirt, tempering his voice to something calmer.

Castiel paused. "Yes?"

"I am sorry about Sergeant Hung. We just want to make sure it doesn’t happen to you."

A pause, and Castiel touched the back of his hand. Dean unconsciously drew in a sharp breath and drew his hand back.

"Thank you, Detective Winchester. I'm sure I shall appreciate it.”

Dean stepped back. Silence reigned in the room for a time before Benny cleared his throat.

"He's…defensive and upset," Gabe broke the quiet.

"Understandable,” Dean said.

"He knows you are doing everything you can," Gabe continued.

"When will you get the security system put in?" Benny queried as they headed out of the physics building.

"I will put my guys on it today."

"And yourself? Is your own home secure?"

"The best my money can buy," a crooked smile.

“Okay, we will check on things later.” Dean nodded. When they were alone he scrubbed his hand over his scalp. “That went well.”

“What were you expecting?” Benny asked wryly. “Falling to his knees in gratitude?”

Dean grimaced. “Guess I can’t blame him that he doesn’t exactly trust us.”

“C’mon, brother. Let’s get back, co-ordinate with uniform.”

“Yeah.”

"Okay buddy, your code is your room number at the uni. " Gabe lifted Castiel’s hand over the number pad, the buttons etched with small bumps to denote the numbers, "Then hit the button on the bottom left to arm it, bottom right to disarm. If it goes off, you will get a call from my company. Your password is your mother’s name. You don’t answer the phone or you give the wrong password, we will send for the cops."

"Oh god, she would love that she is ruling my life again," Castiel muttered sourly, pressing the numbers 1-3-0-8, and feeling for the braille on button, pressed it. There was a series of beeps. Then repeating, he turned it off.

"Ahh, Marilyn means well. She's just worried.” Gabe leaned against the wall.

"She wants me at home where she can cook and do my washing for me. And make sure I don't bump into anything," Castiel growled in annoyance.

"Alright, lets test it," Gabe ignored the grumbling. “Fire it off.”

Castiel’s fingers flew over the number pad again and turned the alarm on. Gabe reached out and opened the front door. The sound was deafening.

"Holy hell, Gabe," Castiel flinched and protested, hands covering his ears, "Does it need to be that bloody loud?"

Gabe just grinned, and within the promised seconds the phone rang. Castiel moved slowly toward the phone with calculated steps and picked up the faintly vibrating receiver.

"Yeah?"

“This is Archangel Security. Password please?”

"Marilyn."

“Thank you, Mister Novak. You have a great day.”

"Yeah. Thanks. You too" Castiel rubbed his forehead in relief as the alarm lapsed into silence. "Shy's probably under the bed right now."

"You're welcome," Gabe drawled.

Castiel moved slowly back through the front hallway, fingertips sliding on the wall.

"I appreciate it, Gabe. Really. I know that Malachi and whoever is doing his dirty work is a danger. And without being able to see which way he is coming is a problem. I'm not an idiot, but damnit..."

Castiel felt Gabe’s hand touch his shoulder and grip firmly. "You just have to accept help for now."

"It bothers me, accepting help," Castiel admitted, his eyes hooded.

"Yeah well, lucky I'm just too much of a bastard to let you talk me out of it," Gabe grinned and dropped his hand.

"Will you be alright? You're a target too."

"I'm fine, Cas. Really. Just take care of yourself. I will check in a couple of days and make sure everything is squared away with the system. Keep the thing on whenever you are at home. Your windows and doors are all alarmed. Just don't forget and open a window. There is also a silent panic button by your bed and in the bathroom. Figured that was the most secure room you have for now. Just hit it and the cops will come running."

"Sounds like a pain, but yeah. Okay." Gabe nodded.

The sound of nails on the floor drew his attention.

"Hey, Shy." The lab approached hesitantly, and plunked her backside down next to Castiel. Gabe reached down and scritched Shya's ears. She panted happily, "Look after him okay, pretty girl?"

"Gabe, get outta here. And thanks.”

“You’re welcome, you grouchy bastard.”

Castiel shut the door behind his friend and brushing his fingers over the number pad he armed it. A sigh. Now he felt like he was in a prison.

Dean chewed on the top of his pen, staring thoughtfully into the distance. Castiel Novak weighed on his mind. What kind of man had he been before being blinded in that explosion? He leaned forward on his chair and tapped a few keys on his computer. He typed Castiel’s name into the database and it brought up his service record. Half a dozen commendations. Early retirement due to wounding in the line of duty. Feeling slightly uneasy about spying on him, he still read through the different cases he had been involved in. He stared at the photographs attached to the file.

Graduation from the Academy. All of about eighteen. Cocky, good looking with a spark of mischief in those blue eyes. He would have been early 20’s in his  SWAT photograph with tactical armour on, gun at the ready. Dean had been right. Castiel was sexy as hell in his uniform. The eyes this time were narrowed slightly, a little more serious after seeing a little more of the bad side of life.

Dean recalled his face from that morning. Seated at his desk, he was remarkably good at looking directly at a speaker. It wasn't until he stood and moved that you realised he was not quite so confident. He moved slowly, his fingertips reaching for familiar landmarks, the edge of the desk, the door frame, the harness of his seeing eye dog.

Dean tapped a key sharply and closed the personnel file, glanced over at her partner who was just hanging up the phone with a faint smile on his face.

"What's up?" Dean asked, one brow cocked.

"The security system at the Professor’s place is in place. They are linking up with us to make sure there is a fast reaction if it goes off."

"Okay.” Dean’s computer pinged and he glanced across at the internal messaging system. "Come on." Dean stood up. "Captain wants to see us."

"Come in, Detectives," Bobby Singer gestured to the two chairs in front of his desk. His bearded face was set in tired lines. His belly strained his shirt and he folded thick farmer's fingers on the blotter before him.

"What is the status with Novak?"

"He's got a new security system put in today by Gabriel Speight, owner of Archangel Security. We said that a car would be patrolling the area over the next few nights as a precaution," Dean explained. “With a possibility that it will be increased.”

Bobby leaned back in his chair and huffed a deep breath.

"I wont lie, Detectives, I think this is a major problem. We can't pin anything on Taylor - he has gone to ground. Hasn't even left his compound. But it would be a nightmare to everyone if the guy who tracked him down and was wounded in the line of duty while arresting him…was then killed when the criminal in question was let out of jail in a backroom deal."

"Is there any chance it isn't Taylor?" Benny asked.

"I wouldn't bet the farm on it," Bobby was blunt. "I hope I'm bloody wrong, but y'know how I feel about coincidences." He rubbed his chin. "I want the two of you on round the clock duty with Novak. Get support from uniform. Lieutenant Turner will inform you which ones have been assigned."

"You want twenty four hour protection for him?"

"Yes, Winchester. I want to avoid a potential political nightmare."

Dean’s jaw clenched. “Well as long as it is to avoid a political situation.”

“Don’t smart off at me, Winchester. Of course I give a damn about Novak. I want him safe as much as anyone. The kid was a damn hero when he was in SWAT. I ain’t gonna let a hero go down on my watch.”

“Sorry, Captain.” Dean grimaced.

“Sort out the shifts. I want a person on him at all times.”

“Yes, sir.” Dean nodded and withdrew.

"Well damn," Benny grumbled, "There goes my date tonight."

"Look, the watch doesn't require both of us. With four of us rotating through, you will have some time off for bad behaviour," Dean said, pitching a paperclip at his partner while he dialled Turner’s number.

Benny caught it and lobbed it back, striking Dean on the chest. "And you can spend some time with the handsome Professor Novak."

Dean snorted. "I don't think the police are his favourite folks right now."

"Just use some of that charm and wit you are known for, since your pretty boy good looks aren’t much help.

Dean shook his head. “He’s a victim, Benny. We got a job to do.”

“If there is one thing that man is not, brother, it’s a victim.” Benny clapped him on the shoulder, as he walked past to go talk with Garth Fitzgerald.

Dean was distracted as he finally got through to Turner’s admin assistant.


	4. Chapter 4

Early the next morning, Dean parked his Impala out the front of Novak’s residence and got out. Benny had the sedan, and Dean needed transport. He figured it was easier than trying to requisition another ride.

“Detective Winchester,” Castiel greeted him. “It’s awfully early for a visit, isn’t it?”

“Not much of a visit, I’m afraid, Professor. Can we talk?”

“Come on in.” Castiel stepped back and gestured down the hallway.  

Dean took a deep breath and let it hiss out between his teeth. The Professor wore a sapphire blue button down shirt. The guy probably had no idea how intensely blue it made his eyes. His dark hair was hanging in untidy strands over his forehead and he stuck his hands in his pockets, his chest was...yep...that was a good chest.

“Something the matter, Detective?” Castiel asked flatly.

“Nope. Nothing at all,” Dean muttered as he preceded him down the hallway.

The rooms beyond were dim, only illuminated by the autumn light entering the open windows. Castiel closed the door, and fumbling for the lightswitch, turned it on. The front lounge blazed alight, and Dean studied the sparsely furnished room. There was a chocolate brown couch and a round coffee table. A plasma screen TV on a low table. A whole bookshelf of CD’s, each with their own braille label.

Castiel moved slowly through the room, his fingertips seeking only the briefest of orienting touches. He led Dean to the kitchen and gestured toward the table in the kitchen nook.

“Would you like a cup of tea or coffee?” Castiel offered.

“Coffee. White with one.” Dean seated himself at the table, dumping his bag at his feet. “Thanks.”

The kitchen was small, clean and uncluttered, only a kettle and a compact microwave sitting on the benchtop. Each cupboard had a small strip of black tape on it. Dean squinted. There were bumps that he guessed was Braille. The kitchen nook he sat in had nothing but the table with four chairs, all precisely positioned.

No artwork or photographs were on the walls, the plain cream coloured paint was illuminated by simple oyster light coverings. There was a space that might have contained a library or office, but was merely open tiles to the backyard, through which she could see a stretch of green grass surrounded by soldier like ornamental trees. Nothing relieved the emptiness of the room, bar the vent of a heating system.

Dean turned back to watch Castiel move around the kitchen with unexpected grace, his fingertips trailing along the cupboards. He opened one and removed two heavy ceramic mugs in hues of green and purple. They looked handmade. He opened the top drawer and withdrew a red plastic peg, clipping it to one of the mugs. He unravelled a tea bag and set it in one of the mugs. Another container was opened and he carefully measured a scoop of coffee granules, then sugar. He turned to the fridge, and touched the bottles in the door of the fridge until he located the milk. He opened it, sniffed it, and apparently finding it acceptable, he poured a dash into Dean’s mug.

Dean rested his chin on his linked hands. Just the simple act of coffee made by Castiel fascinated him. He took such things for granted. But he suddenly got an inkling as to how much preparation had to take place and gut instinct told him Castiel wouldn’t welcome an offer of help.

“You are very silent, Detective.” Castiel filled the kettle and with only the merest fumble, had it back on the holder and popped the switch. It started heating with that hollow gurgling sound. He leaned against the kitchen cabinets, his arms folded over his chest. “Tell me the bad news, if you please.”

“Twenty four hour watch,” Dean informed him.

“No.” Castiel was emphatic. “I have the damn alarm system. I am not going to put up with you invading and disrupting my life any further.”

“Be reasonable, Professor. We don’t want you getting hurt.”

“I think you and I both know that it’s because they don’t want the political fallout if something happens to me, Detective.” The kettle hissed its readiness. Castiel filled first the mug with the peg. A quiet noise sounded the fullness of the cup. He transferred the peg and filled the second mug. He set the peg on the kitchen sink, picked up a spoon and stirred Dean’s coffee, unerringly locating the correct mug. Castiel picked up both mugs in his right hand and trailed his fingertips over the kitchen bench until he reached the end. With two careful steps, he felt for the chair in front of him, set down the mugs with a faint clatter, and seated himself. He pushed Dean’s coffee mug toward him.

“Yeah. It’s partly political,” Dean said honestly. If Taylor is seeking revenge, it would look bad for the department. But it’s also about you. They haven’t forgotten your service. Yours or any of the others on your team.”

“Are the others being watched?” Castiel wrapped his palms around his mug.

“Yeah. The department is devoting serious resources to making sure you are all safe.”

“Don’t I feel special?”

Dean took a sip of the coffee and screwed up his face. The coffee was terrible. He would be bringing his own from now on. He cleared his throat and asked: “Where is your dog?”

“Backyard, enjoying a bit of time before we head to work. She gets the chance to be a lazy layabout for a bit.” Castiel smiled, his eyes crinkling.

Dean cleared his throat again as a flush of heat slammed into his gut. He stared at his appalling coffee, rather than the way Castiel’s lips curved.

“So what will this protection involve, Detective?” Castiel asked.

“Oh, uh…” Dean had to drag his thoughts back from the precipice of sudden fantasy.

“Just call me Castiel, Detective. If you are going to spend time here, calling me Professor Novak is going to be a pain to both of us.” Castiel removed the tea bag from his cup. “Might I call you Dean?”

“Sure, yeah. That’s fine.” Dean studied the arches and hollows of Castiel’s face. The straight bridge of his nose, the long eyelashes framing those brilliant eyes, the incredible curve of his lips. “Well...Castiel...you will will have someone personally with you twenty four hours a day, and a cruiser will be outside your house while you are at home. We will have a plainclothes officer with you at the university every day.”

“Who will be personally with me at night?”

“That would be...Benny or myself.”

“I see.” Castiel tapped his fingers irritably on the table. “For how long?”

“Until we are certain the threat has passed.”

“That could take some time.”

“Yeah.”

Castiel raised a hand and rubbed his eyes. “And you will want to stay here?”

“You can refuse, of course,” Dean said quickly. “But it would simplify matters.”

“Or what? You sleep in the car outside?”

“I wouldn’t be sleeping. The purpose is to watch over you.”

The sound of Metalhead filled the room and Castiel frowned.

“Sorry, I have to get this.” Dean stood and headed for the lounge room. His voice was low as he  answered.

Castiel contemplated his companion. He was frustrated by the perpetual darkness that surrounded him. Dean’s voice was so telling. He wondered if he knew that whatever emotion coursed his veins revealed itself in his voice. Anger, frustration, empathy. Castiel closed his eyelids and tipped his chin down to his chest. He wondered what Dean looked like. He was tall, strong, moved with confidence. He collected his mug, and carefully skimmed his hand across the table. He bumped into Dean’s mug and picked it up. He frowned. The mug was still full. He sniffed at the contents, then sipped.

“Ugh.”

“What’s wrong?” Dean came back into the kitchen.

“You should have told me the coffee was terrible. I rarely drink it, but I would prefer not to poison my guests.” Castiel tipped the contents into the sink and rinsed out the mugs.

Dean rubbed the back of his neck. “It wasn’t that bad.”

“Yes it was.” Castiel dried his hands on a towel.

“Okay. Yeah. It was.” Dean laughed.

Castiel smiled. “I have to get to work.”

“Yeah. I’m to drive you there, then head to the office. You will have plainclothes on you today. I will be bunking down here tonight.”

“I usually walk.”

“Not today, Cas. Sorry. But we gotta take precautions.”

Castiel gritted his teeth, his jaw clenching visibly. “Very well.” He headed for the back door to let Shy in. He paused.

“Dean, what do you look like?”

“Why?” Dean sounded surprised.

“In case I need to describe you to someone. ‘Cop’ isn’t much of a descriptor. Age? Hair colour? Anything will help me.”

“Uhh, well. I’m 37. Dark blonde hair cut short. Green eyes. Six feet. Freckles.”

Castiel nodded slowly. “Alright.” And headed for his office.

 

Castiel bit his lip as he slung his bag over his shoulder. The picture he was building in his mind of Dean Winchester was causing problems. Combined with that voice, it was disrupting his calm. Being blind AND gay had caused a lot of issues in his dating life. It was a lot harder to pick up on signs of mutual attraction. He found himself hoping that Dean was into guys but they were hardly in a situation that made that an appropriate topic to bring up.

He put the harness on Shy, who sat wagging her tail, panting happily. He suspected Dean had been patting her. He ran a gentling hand over Shy’s head.

“Dean?”

“I’m here.” Dean’s voice came from the loungeroom.

“It isn’t a problem to have Shy in your vehicle is it?”

There was the slightest hesitation. “No. It’s fine. Wouldn’t have brought my Baby otherwise.”

Castiel nodded. “I need to set the alarm. You had best know the code is one three zero eight. Password is Marilyn.”

“Marilyn?” Dean’s voice was curious.

“My mother. Gabe’s idea of a little joke. She is very...protective.”

“Ah.” The response had a curious note of relief.

Dean watched him enter the codes and switch the system on. He locked the door. “I will arrange for keys for you and Detective Lafitte.”

“Thank you.”

“You are watching out for me, Dean. It is in my best interest to make it easy for you.”

“My car is in front of you. Three paces.”

Castiel reached out and touched the cool metal. “What kind of car is it?”

“‘67 Impala. Black.”

Castiel whistled, and ran his hands over the headlight ridges, the sweep of the bonnet to the back seat door. “You sure about Shy? Your baby must be beautiful. I don’t mind walking.”

“I mind you walking.” Dean sounded regretful. “It’s fine. As long as she doesn’t chew on the upholstery, she can’t do anything worse to it than what Sammy and I used to do.”

“She won’t.” Castiel opened the back door and gave a low whistle. “Shy. In.”

There was the sound of scrambling paws as Shy hopped up. Castiel closed the back door. He opened the front and slid into the seat. It was firmly sprung. He ran his hands over the leather. It felt soft, and it was a bench seat. He reached forward and lightly touched all of the various dials.

There was a creak and slam and the dip of the seat as Dean sat down. The car rumbled as it started.

Castiel tilted his head, listening to the sound of the engine. A slow smile curved his lips. “You look after her well, Dean.”

“She’s a member of the family too,” Dean said emphatically, shifting the car into reverse and setting it into motion.

“Did it belong to your father?”

“Up until he died, yeah. Then I inherited it.”

“I am sorry to hear about your father.”

“It’s alright. He went down in the line of duty. He was a cop too. Shot during a hostage taking. Some asshole tried to rob a bank, Dad wasn’t even on duty. Just wrong place, wrong time.”

“That must have been hard on your family.”

“It’s just Sammy and I now. Mom died when we were kids. Car accident.”

Castiel let out a sigh of breath. “Dean, I don’t have the words to express my sympathy for your situation.”

“It is what it is. Sammy and I did alright.”

“Sam is your brother, yes?”

“Yeah. He owns a ranch just outside of Hillsboro Texas.”

“That’s a long way away.”

“Yeah. The place belongs to our grandfather on our mom’s side. When Dad died, we went out there. Grandpa Campbell took us in. I was fourteen and a right little bastard. Took me a while to settle in. I got into a bit of trouble.” Dean shrugged a shoulder. “Grandpa pulled some strings and got me into the police academy in Austin when I was eighteen. He still stomps around the ranch, ignoring us when we tell him to take it easy.”

“He sounds like a good man.”

“Oh, he was a hard bastard. But he yanked me into line fast enough when I looked like I was going to go bad.”

“You love him though.”

Castiel could hear the smile in Dean’s face. “Yeah. I do.”

“Do you have a pet?”

“Yep. A cat. Trouble.”

“The cat causes trouble?”

“No. That’s its name. Trouble. We busted a drug house. There was a couple of kittens there. They were flea ridden and matted. One of the poor beasts died, but Trouble was pretty stubbord. I got her treated, shaved and desexed. She hated me for the first few weeks. Pissed on my bed, shredded my couch, hid my socks, terrorised my boyfriend. Then she figured I was her source of food, and cleaner of her litterbox. When she realised she ran the damn house, she stopped trying to hook out my achilles tendon whenever I walked past wherever she was hiding.”

“You like her too. Very much. I can hear the affection in your voice,” Castiel said cautiously.

“Yeah,” Dean admitted. “She’s my family too. ”

“What about the boyfriend?”

Dean hesitated as though he was embarrassed he had said anything. “I broke up with him. When she attacked him, he kicked her across the room. I had to take her to the vet with a broken rib and he went to work with a black eye and all his stuff in the back seat of his car. I kept the cat.”

“You broke up with a guy over your cat?” Castiel was curious.

“You learn a lot about a person how they treat animals. My grandpa taught me thought.” Dean’s voice still held an edge of anger, and a little defensiveness.

“Yes. You can.” Castiel linked his fingers in his lap. “How does your cat treat your current boyfriend?”

“Probably appallingly, if I had one.”

Castiel laughed then, a gravelly rumble that filled the car. Shy gave a joyful bark.

“Okay,” Dean said, his tone distracted. “I’m at the university. Where can I park?”

“Staff carpark. North end. You can just drop me off though.”

“Nope.” Dean said emphatically. “You get an escort to your office.”

There was silence while Dean moved through the labyrinthine car park. He pulled into a bay and tossed his PD plate in the window to avoid the insidious parking inspectors that even now patrolled.

Castiel carefully got out, then let Shy out of the back seat. He heard Dean’s door shut. From his bag, he got out his cane and extended it. Shy stood by his legs, patiently waiting.

“Dean?”

“Right here.” Dean’s voice came just from his right.

“Alright.” Castiel nodded. “Let’s go.”

Shy guided Castiel to the pedestrian crossing through the car park and with a confident stride, he headed for the Physics building. He could hear Dean’s footsteps just beside him.

“Professor Novak!” The shriek was loud, feminine and faintly irritating.

He could sense Dean shift beside him.

“Don’t shoot my students, Detective,” Castiel muttered. “Miss Lincoln. Good morning. I can only assume this early morning greeting is in response the assignment you failed to hand in yesterday?”

 

Dean grinned. The girl was tanned, gorgeous, with legs for miles and eyelashes that could start a stiff breeze once they got going. The way she was pouting and posing before Castiel gave a hint that she was used to flirting with staff members to get what she wanted. A pity the approach had limited effect on a blind guy.

“I’m so sorry, sir!” Miss Lincoln had the kind of voice that spoke in italics and exclamation marks. “Honestly, I can have it in by the end of the day if you will only give me until then!”

“It is still ten percent off, Miss Lincoln,” Castiel said flatly.

“But Professor…” Her voice turned babyish, flirting openly. “You know how it is. I couldn’t find my thumbdrive and since you are the only professor who makes us hand in digitally, I thought I could get a pass on this one?”

“No, Miss Lincoln. The only way you get a ‘pass’ is if you manage to write a decent paper regarding your lab project that you and Miss Winterhouse have been working on this past two sessions. The requirements of the course are made very clear.”

Her smile faded, her voice cold. “Fine.”

“Good day, Miss Lincoln.”

She tottered off on her high heels. Dean thoughtfully watched her go. “That happen often?”

“More often than you might think. One would think due dates are just guidelines rather than hard and fast rules.”

“Whatever you say, Captain Sparrow,” Dean chuckled and followed Castiel as he strode off again, his cane tapping rhythmically.

“Pirates of the Caribbean. I liked that movie.” Castiel slowed as he reached a familiar door. Dean leaned forward and opened the door. Castiel flailed a moment as he sought the familiar touch point and his fingertips brushed against Dean’s wrist. He paused.

Dean studied Castiel’s face, suddenly brought close, the confusion on his face clearing for a sudden flare of awareness.

“I was not expecting you to open the door, Detective.”

“Just being polite, Professor.” Dean’s gaze flicked down to Castiel’s lips.

Silence fell between the two men. There was a brief pause, then Castiel ran his fingertips lightly along Dean’s arm, across his shoulder. His thumb and forefinger traced the rough arch of his jawline. Dean swallowed the sudden flare of heat that brought a flush to his face.

“I have found it’s a myth, you know...that blind people want to touch your face to see what you look like,” Castiel said quietly. “To my mind the concept of ‘appearance’ seems to quickly lose its meaning.”

“R...really?” Dean’s hand shoved into his pocket and bunched there so he wouldn’t reach out to pull the Professor to him.

“Yes. While I wonder what you look like, it is secondary to my desire to know who you are.” Castiel lowered his hand away from Dean’s jaw. “Would I be able to take you out to dinner when all this is over, Dean?”

Dean blinked in surprise. He opened his mouth. “I..uhh..” His brain stuttered.

“I realise that you have a job to do as regards to my safety. And I understand that.” Castiel smiled faintly. “But I find myself wishing to know you better. But if you wish to say no, my ego can take the hit.

When Dean didn’t reply, Castiel frowned. He turned his head slightly.

“Dean?”

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Triggers for past addiction mentions. I didn't want to make light of the struggle it takes to overcome addictions, but this story isn't about that struggle, its just mentioned to give more of a hint as to the path Cas has travelled to get to where he is.

“Yes.” Came the sudden reply, very soft, very quiet and just a little intense.

“Yes?” Castiel stiffened when he felt an increase in body warmth near him. Dean had stepped closer without him realising.

“Yes, Castiel.” His voice was low, rumbling, sexy as hell. “I would like to go out with you.”

“Mornin’ Professor,” a cheery voice interrupted them as a young man paused at the door of the physics building.

“Good morning, Kevin.” Castiel raised a hand to his brow and stepped back from Dean, who he sensed also jerked backwards. “Dean, this is Kevin Tran, my assistant.” He then waved generally at Dean. “Kevin, this is Detective Dean Winchester, one of the police officers assigned to my case.”

 

Kevin held his hand out toward Dean, who took it and shook firmly. The young man was looking at him with speculative amusement. “Nice to meet you, Detective.” Kevin turned back to Castiel. ”Boss, I have uploaded all the student’s files onto your laptop and started the translator program.”

“Thank you, Kevin. Detective? I will see you tonight.”

“Have a good day,” Dean said politely.

Dean watched the two men enter the shadowy department, and folded his arms across his chest. He knew...just knew...that if they hadn’t been interrupted he might have just laid lips on the sexy professor and that would have been an epic mistake.

He took a deep breath in and let it out. He had to get going.

 

“So, Detective Dean is hot.” Kevin observed, as he waited for Castiel to open the door to his office.

“He is?” Castiel asked, trying for nonchalance.

“Oh yeah.” Kevin nodded, his voice filled with amusement. “If that man gives you a hint, you need to ask him out. Those eyes are enough for you to drool over on their own.”

Castiel hesitated, his hand on the door to his office. He put his key in the door and turned it. “What do you mean by ‘hot’?”

Kevin followed Castiel into his room. “Best looking guy I have seen on this campus in quite some time. I’m strictly about the girls, but man, he could make me think otherwise. He has good lips. And the way he was looking at you when I so rudely interrupted your little moment? Firestarter.”

Castiel chewed thoughtfully on his lower lip. “Huh.”

“So? Gonna ask him out?”

“Already have.”

“Woohoo!” Kevin flung both arms enthusiastically in the air. “Wait, he said yes, right?”

“Yes. After the investigation is complete.” Castiel headed for his desk.

“Why wait?”

“I’m not explaining this to you, Kevin,” Castiel complained, seating himself.

“You know better than anyone that life is damn short, boss.”

Castiel winced.

Kevin was immediately shamefaced. “I’m sorry.”

“No. You are right,” Castiel said quietly. “Now do I have any messages?”

“Uhh,” Kevin scrabbled around on his desk. “Yeah…”

Castiel leaned back in his chair as his busy day began.

 

“What’s the matter, brother?” Benny asked as he watched Dean belt the shit out of the boxing bag with a single slug. “Ya look...twitchy.”

“Been a long day.” Dean barely stopped the bag from pounding him in the face on the return swing and sighed, resting his sweating forehead on the scarred leather.

“Gonna be a long night. Ya sure ya don’t want me to take first shift?”

“It’s fine.” Dean punched the bag with a straight jab, following with a right hook. “I got a couple hours shut eye this afternoon.”

“That’s not what I’m talkin’ about. You didn’t exactly get on with the Professor last time we interviewed him. Maybe it would make it easier if we sorted with the uniforms to do night shift?”

“He asked me to dinner.” He refocussed on the leather bag, refusing to meet Benny’s gaze.

“What?”  
“Castiel asked me to dinner when all this was done.”

“So he’s into dick… huh.”

“Benny…” Dean snarled, putting a hand up to stop the bag swinging and glared.

“Oh don’t start getting precious with me now,” Benny scoffed. And paused. His eyes went wide. “Wait. You like him. Like..not just think he is hot, but you like him.”

“We are meant to be protecting him, Benny,” Dean protested, “And it’s Castiel Novak, not...Louie the Mobster.”

“You wouldn’t be planning on making out with good ol’ Louie though. So just go out to dinner with the guy. You can still protect him while eating soup and pasta. What makes him so damn special that you are second guessin’ going out with him?”

“He’s a college professor of physics, Benny. I’m just some cop from the middle of nowhere.”

“So what, brother? He is hot and he wants to spend time with you.”

“I’m his damn protective detail. I should be focused on that, not …” Dean waved his hand vaguely.

“Yup.” Benny grinned. “And you are there tonight. You can … guard his body alright.”

“You aren’t helping.”

“Nope. But I have a date tonight with a hottie.”

Dean started stripping his gloves off. “Have fun.”

“I will give you all the juicy details tomorrow.” Benny waved his hand over his shoulder as he retreated from the gym.

“Do me a favour, and ...don’t.” Dean threw his glove at Benny. It bounced off his head. Benny threw it back with a laugh.

 

Dean rang Castiel’s doorbell. He didn’t wear his usual suit, just a pair of jeans, a t-shirt and an army surplus jacket that had been washed so often it was butter soft. The sunset was spectacular, all oranges and yellows and he studied it while he waited for Cas.

“Yes?” Castiel’s voice comes from a newly installed communications device.

“It’s Dean.”

The alarm and door locks disengaged, and the door swung open. Castiel wore a grey t shirt and a pair of black tracksuit pants. His feet were bare and a cup of tea steamed in hand. “Come in. Do you have gear? I will show you the guest room.”

“Thanks.” Dean replied, once again reduced to monosyllabic answers in Castiel’s presence.

“I’m just doing my marking, feel free to make yourself at home. Have you had dinner?”

“I got a burger on my way here.”

Castiel’s nose wrinkled. “Really? Next time I will just cook for you.”

“It’s alright, Cas. Really. I’m used to eating take out on a job.”

“Hrmm…” Castiel murmured. He pointed at the kitchen. “You know where the kitchen is.” He moved through the dining room, into the hallway beyond. He gestured to the right. “The guest room is your room.” His fingers brushed the hallway wall. He paused at a closed door. “Bathroom.” He continued. “Laundry. Office. Library.” Each door was closed. Then at the far end of the hall. “My room.”

“Alright. Seems pretty straightforward.” Dean shifted awkwardly. “I will dump my gear in the spare room, then set up in your kitchen.”

“I think it is foolish if you don’t sleep, Dean.” Castiel leaned against the wall, sipping his tea.

“It will be worse if I do.” Dean shoved his hand into his pocket, his pack still slung over his shoulder. “Look, the alarm will let me know if anyone tries to enter, but I will periodically do sweeps inside and out. We got two uniforms watching the house but it’s better to be safe. I will be sending a message out to the guys every hour. If I don’t check in they will send an alert for backup.”

“Alright.” Castiel hesitated, as though he would say something more. He gestured at the door down the hall. “I’m going to do my marking.”

“Sure. Yeah. I will check things out.”

Dean blew out a calming breath and headed for his room. Like everywhere else in the house this room was incredibly plain. A double bed with a plain blue spread. Blue curtains over the window overlooking the backyard. It was dark out, so he still hadn’t seen the back yard. When he headed out to the dining room, the clatter of claws followed him across the tiles. He looked down to see Shy studying him.

“Hey girl.” Dean crouched down.

Shy tilted her head, sniffed the air. Dean held out his hand. Shy sniffed him hesitantly then appeared to find him acceptable as she put her head under his hand for pats. Dean scratched her head and she panted happily. “Hey, sweet girl,” he murmured. The dog went into paroxysms of delight as he rubbed her sides, her tongue lolled out of her mouth, her eyes rolling whitely. When he straightened, she looked at him with affection and as he checked out the standard of locks on the windows, and all the external doors in the house, she followed close by, plonking down on her butt beside him when he took out his laptop and started it up, beginning the log. He called the guys outside, letting them know he was on the clock.

He was still typing when Castiel shuffled out of his office, empty mug in hand.

“Everything alright?’ Castiel asked.

“All good, Cas.”

“Would you like a cup of coffee?”

“I’m fine,” Dean said quickly, recalling the last cup that Castiel had made him.

Castiel smiled slightly. “I got my housekeeper to buy better coffee and throw out that other stuff.”

“In that case…” Dean grinned. “Sure.”

Castiel moved with that smooth grace and Dean couldn’t help but watch him, his chin propped on his hand. Shy levered upright and and shook herself, yawning widely, and approached Castiel.

“Oh, I wondered where she went.” Castiel leaned down to rub her head. “Been keeping Dean company, huh?”

The dog was looking up at Castiel adoringly. Dean was beginning to understand how she felt. He shook his head slowly, but continued watching the professor make the tea and coffee. Castiel brought him his mug and set it down.

“I’m almost done. Just got my lectures to prepare, then I will head to bed,” Castiel explained. “How is the coffee?”

Dean sipped, and hummed with pleasure. “Definitely better.”

“Good.” Castiel nodded, and moved slowly toward the hallway.

“Good night, Cas.”

Castiel paused, his palm resting on the arch. He gave that brief flash of a smile again. “Good night, Dean. And thankyou. It makes me feel better that you are here.”

“You’re welcome.” Dean almost groaned. That smile was going to be the death of him.

 

Castiel reached over and pressed the button on the alarm clock at the side of his bed. A soft female voice declared it to be ‘Two fourteen am.” He was staring up at the ceiling, one arm behind his head. The other splayed on his bare chest as he listened to Dean making his rounds.

He heard a board creak in the hallway and a door close. He groaned and rolled over, crushing his face into the bedlinens that had cost him a damn fortune. He figured he had slept about as much as his house guest.

Damn it.

Castiel sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He yanked his robe from the back of the door and headed down the hallway. He needed tea. Or something to help him sleep. The fact that he might talk to Dean, however briefly, had absolutely nothing to do with it.

He headed for the kitchen, and somehow knew Dean wasn’t in the room. He couldn’t feel his warmth, his energy. Herbal tea. He needed tea. Something, anything, to help him sleep. Slapping the button on the kettle, Castiel leaned both elbows on the marble counter, and scrubbed his beard roughened jaw with his palms.

Suddenly he felt the atmosphere of the room change, just before Dean’s voice startled him.

“Can’t sleep?” The tone was a little weary.

“No.” Castiel straightened. “Not used to having someone prowling around.”

“Sorry.” Dean sounded like he was leaning against the kitchen bench.

“Just making a cup of tea. Want anything?”

“White with one. You drink a lot of tea.”

“I used to drink a lot of something else,” Castiel said grimly.

“Yeah?”

He couldn’t hear any censure in the man’s voice.

“Was after I was released from hospital. Gabe was in hospital still. He was pretty badly injured and I blamed myself.” The kettle whistled its readiness. “I went on a bender, refused to get help to deal with my injuries and became a right bastard to deal with. I didn’t want to listen to anyone.” He smiled self deprecatingly. “When Gabe got out, he got hold of me, took me to live with him, got me sober then got me to go to programs that taught me how to live independently, instead of whining about my ill fortune.”

“When did you start your studies again?”

“Before joining the force, I had done a couple years in an undergrad degree specialising in physics and biochemistry. I went back, finished it out, did my honours and masters. As luck would have it, I got a lecturer position, published some papers, got an adjunct professorship, now I’m an associate.” Castiel shrugged and handed Dean his mug.

“You must be pretty damn smart,” Dean said quietly. “That’s an impressive resume.”

Castiel tilted his head, trying to get a read on the thought behind the comment.

“I guess so,” he said, tracing his thumb on the rim of the mug. “And I have been real lucky. But sometimes, at three am, a lot of what ifs stir in my mind. What if I hadn’t opened that door? What if Gabe had gone in first? What if -.” He swallowed the sudden lump in his throat.

A hand closed over his forearm. It startled him, unused as he was to being touched. “Can’t pretend to know what it’s like to go through what you have, Cas, but I’m sorry. You can’t second guess though. I read the investigative report. It wouldn’t have made a difference who had gone through that door, that bomb would have gone off. You are here still though, and I’m glad of it.”

Castiel brushed his fingertips over the back of Dean’s knuckles, could feel the callouses and strength there. “You are?”

“Yeah.”

He felt Dean step closer, felt that warmth that always seemed to flow off him.

“Cas?” Dean’s voice was a little rough.

Castiel had to swallow against a sudden tightness in his throat. “Yes, Dean?”

“Would you mind awfully if I kissed you? You can say no. I will accept no. I will wait until this whole situation is over before I ask again. But right now, I would like to find out what you taste like.”

Castiel let out a shaky breath. He ran his hands up Dean’s sleeve. The cloth of his jacket was soft, the seam edges were wrinkled as though he never ironed it. The collar was slightly frayed. Then his fingers found the arch of his throat. Castiel curved his palm around the warmth of Dean’s neck, his thumb traced the ridge of Dean’s jaw that flexed under his touch.

“Is this alright?” Castiel asked softly.

“God yes,” Dean murmured, resting his hands lightly on Castiel’s hips, half on the cotton of his sleep pants, half on his bare skin. The touch sent a shiver up Castiel’s spine.

Castiel ran the ball of his thumb over the dip in Dean’s chin, enjoying the rasp of his faint beard over the sensitive skin. He found the corner of Dean’s mouth, and traced the cupid’s bow arch of the upper lip. Castiel’s mouth fell open as he let out a breath he didn’t realise he was holding.

“Your mouth…” he murmured.

“What about my mouth?” Dean asked, his lips moving against Castiel’s thumb.

“Kiss me, Dean.”

Dean stepped forward, closing the last of the distance. His hands splayed against the bare skin of Castiel’s back and pulled him in the last inch as his mouth closed over Castiel’s. There was strength in the kiss, a possession, and a thrumming need. Castiel slid his fingers into Dean’s hair, the short strands prickling his fingers. His other hand grabbed onto Dean’s jacket, fisting there to hold himself steady.

And he stopped thinking ‘what if’. 


	6. Chapter 6

The world exploded into sound. Horrible sound that pierced the senses and drew nails down the spine. Dean jerked away from Castiel, leaving him disoriented and grasping for the edge of the kitchen bench.

“Cas, get down. Stay down.” Dean’s hand was suddenly on Castiel’s shoulder, pushing firmly.

Castiel slid down the kitchen cabinet, and knelt on the cold tiles. The sound was deafening, and over the cacophony, he could hear his phone ringing. A furry body suddenly touched his and quivered. He put his arm around Shy and soothed her.  

He heard Dean speaking to someone and the silence that followed was equally shocking. The phone gave one more ring before Dean picked it up.

“Marilyn.” He said abruptly. “Thanks.” He hung up.

Castiel heard the front door open and the sound of another voice confused him. Who was that?

“Clear the back yard.” He heard Dean order the newcomer. “I’m going to sweep the house.”

Booted footsteps passed by the kitchen. The sound of his back door opening, letting in a wash of cold air, made his heart leap, his pulse thrumming in his throat. After a moment, he heard Dean’s footsteps approach, his voice was gentle as he crouched beside Castiel. “Hey. You okay?” He felt Dean reach across him and rub his hand over Shy’s head. “Hey girl, it’s okay.”

“I’m fine,” Castiel murmured. “Check the house.”

Dean touched his face gently, before he stood and moved through the house. Castiel leaned his head back against the cabinets, staring blindly at the ceiling. He hated this feeling of helplessness. His gut was completely twisted with building anger and sickening fear.

A few minutes later, the uniform outside re-entered, closing and locking the door.

“Professor Novak?”

Castiel levered himself upright, hanging onto the edge of the bench. “Yes. I’m here.” He rubbed his brow.

“Are you alright, sir?”

“Just fine, officer. Who are you?”

“My name is Isaac, sir. Isaac Macon.”

“What happened?”

“Not sure, sir. The alarm went off.”

“I heard,” Castiel said drily.

Footsteps heralded Dean’s return to the room. “Your bedroom window was opened, Cas.”

Castiel frowned. “What? No. That isn’t possible.”

“Was it locked?”

“Yes. I locked it before I went to bed.”

Dean turned his attention on the officer. “What were you two doing out in that car? Someone got up to the Professor’s window, damn it, right under your noses.”

 _“Isaac? There are footprints in the garden under the window.”_ The radio crackled to life.

“I’m calling in forensics,” Dean said flatly.

“We should consider moving him. It might have just been a burglar keen for a looksee, and the alarm frightened him off. But it’s not worth the chance, right?” Macon replied.

Castiel rubbed his brow.

Dean seemed to be considering it. “I don’t know. Let’s wait for fingerprints.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Castiel growled, anger at being ignored finally giving him voice.

“Cas, you have to understand. This place is vulnerable. Even the measures we have in place…” Dean was concerned.

“Yes. How is it some erstwhile criminal got up to my front windows without being spotted by your intrepid crew?”

“Cas…” Dean’s voice was closer, as though he was moving toward him.

Castiel couldn’t keep the snarl from his voice. “Pardon me for thinking that my confidence in your abilities to protect me are a little shaken right now.”

Dean’s reply when it came was bleak. “Understandable. I will arrange for my replacement for tomorrow.”

“Dean…”

But all he could hear was Dean escorting the uniformed officer to the door, giving instructions in a low voice.

 

Castiel sat at his dining table, hands linked.

“I’m sorry, Cas.” Dean’s voice came from the doorway from the front room. “I screwed up. I should have been doing my job.”

“True.” Castiel nodded slowly. “That’s true. It could have gone better.”

“Forensics will be here in an hour. They will take fingerprints.”

“Good.”

“You should avoid using your room until they clear it. I haven’t slept in the guest room bed.”

“Alright. What time is it?”

“It’s three. We will try to be quiet.”

Castiel rose slowly to his feet. “I spoke out of anger and fear before. I’m sorry.”

“No. You were right. I should have been focused on the job.”

“Dean, I came out of my room because I wished to talk to you. If you hadn’t been here, I would have been in my room. I assume whoever tried to break in was not coming unarmed.”

There was silence for a long moment. Then, closer: “I had considered that.” He paused. “You came out to talk to me?”

“Yes.” Castiel put his hands in the pockets of his robes and dropped his chin to his chest. “I felt helpless, Dean. I am not used to feeling helpless.”

“Cas…

Castiel stiffened as warm hands wrapped themselves around his upper arms. Admitting the fear that soured his gut made him need to withdraw, and quickly.  

“I need to sleep. My classes tomorrow start early.”

“Are you alright?”

“I am fine.”

He felt immediately bereft as Dean let go, but he had to get somewhere dark and quiet. Now.

 

He moved Dean’s bag to the small desk and carefully put his robe over the chair. He slipped into bed and for the first time in years, he allowed the tremors to overtake him.    

 

Dean pressed the heels of his hands into his eyesockets until light exploded behind the lids. He was so tired he could barely stand. His phone sounded.

“Hello?”

_“Hey brother. You ready to switch off?”_

“Hey Benny. Yeah. Just let me pack up my gear.”

_“Ya sound tired.”_

“Been a long night. There was an attempted break in.”

_“Shit, brother. How’s the professor?”_

“Shaken.”

_“He going in to work?”_

“Yeah.”

Dean glanced up as a hollow eyed Castiel came into the kitchen. He had heard the man showering earlier and had turned on the kettle. He bit his lower lip, stood up.

“See you in a bit, Benny.” Dean hung up as Castiel startled at the sound of his voice. “I made you a cup of tea, Cas. Figured you would be a little rough this morning.”

“Thank you.” Castiel nodded.

Dean picked up the cup from the kitchen bench, touched Castiel’s hand and turned the handle toward him. He studied Castiel’s features, and saw the shadows under his eyes, the lines bracketing his mouth. “Cas-”

“Your partner is taking me to work, I presume?” Castiel said flatly.

“Yes. He will be here in a few minutes. I need to get some rack time.”

Castiel’s hand hesitantly sought out, touched the fabric of Dean’s coat, then pressed firmly against his chest. “I felt safe with you here. Truly.”

Dean brushed the back of his knuckles over Castiel’s freshly shaven jaw. “If you are worried about anything today, at all, call me. Benny will be with you, and I trust him with my life. But call me.” The front doorbell sounded. “That will be Benny.” Dean leaned forward and caught Castiel’s mouth in a brief, hard kiss, the rasp of his whiskers rough on Castiel’s skin. He broke the kiss when the doorbell sounded again. Castiel was blinking dazedly. “I will let him in.”

 

“Hey brother.” Castiel heard the thick Cajun accent of Dean’s partner. “You are lookin’ the worst for wear there. Time to get some sleep, I reckon.”

“That’s the plan. I will change out at six.”

“You sure? That’s a bit early.”

“Yeah. It’s fine.”

Castiel frowned, unashamedly eavesdropping as he drank his tea.

“Alright then. I will give you the heads up where we are. I have the log details on the laptop.”

Castiel heard the rattle of keys, then dual footsteps as the men approached.

“Mornin’, Professor. Heard you had a rough night. Don’t you worry a thing. Got extra manpower around the university today. We will keep ya safe.”

“Good to know, Detective Lafitte. I will be ready to leave in ten minutes.” Castiel set down his mug on the kitchen bench, and headed for his office.

He felt, rather than heard, Dean follow him. Picking up his messenger bag he hoisted it over his head.

“I don’t like leaving you today,” Dean said into the silence.

“Detective Lafitte will look after me, as you said.”

“I want to recommend putting you into a safe house.”

Castiel took in a slow breath, he clutched the strap of his bag in both hands. “Dean…”

“I want you safe.”

“I will be.” Castiel moved toward the door. He felt Dean shift out of his way. “I will see you tonight.”

Dean’s hand cupped over his cheek. He could feel the callouses on his fingertips, the strength, the tenderness, and he wanted it for his own. He unconsciously leaned into it.

“What’re you doing to me, Cas?” came the whispered query.

Castiel swallowed.

Benny’s voice interrupted them from down the hallway.  “Better get going, Prof. Gonna be late according to the schedule otherwise.”

Dean’s hand dropped. “See you tonight,” he said. 


	7. Chapter 7

Dean turned off the ignition of the Impala. He had slept that day, but poorly. He checked his watch. It was 5:45pm and the university was quietening down. Most of the car park was empty. He had called Benny and heard that Cas had finished up his last lecture of the day at 5:30 and was now in his office.

Dean settled his jacket over his shoulder holster, ensuring the weapon wasn’t visible, locked the Impala and pocketing the keys, headed for the physics building.

The fingerprint lifted from the window hadn’t matched anyone in the system. Maybe it was just an unfortunate wannabe burglar, but Dean didn’t like those odds. He wanted Cas somewhere safe, somewhere Taylor couldn’t get to him. In a matter of days, the guy had gotten under his skin. Everything in his being demanded he protect Castiel.  

Dean moved swiftly through the campus, heading for the physics building. He checked his phone. No messages. He sent a quick text to Benny, letting him know he was incoming.

Heading through the corridor, Dean scanned the faces of those who passed. Most were preoccupied university students, checking phones or listening to headphones, chattering to their friends. A few older academics, bearing heavy textbooks and heavier backpacks. He was bumped into by a woman in a pair of tight jeans and black leather jacket.

She smiled at him. “Sorry.” Winked. And continued on, hands tucked into her pockets.

“No worries.” Dean nodded at her. He glanced down the hallway and spotted the uniformed officer waiting near the entry, scanning faces, watching for trouble.

He opened the door of the physics building, and headed in. It was silent within, lights dimmed. The woman at the front desk must have headed home for the day. The young man he was introduced to the previous day, Kevin, appeared in the hallway with his pack slung over his shoulder.

“Hey, Detective.” Kevin’s grin was infectious.

“Hey. Is Professor Novak in his office?”   

“Yeah, I think so. He was going through some notes for tomorrow.”

“Okay, great. Thanks.”

“Last ones in the building. Don’t forget to lock up,” Kevin called behind him as he headed out the door.

Dean flicked him a salute.

 

Dean stood in the open doorway of Castiel’s office. Benny was reading a book, his booted feet up on a low coffee table. Castiel had on a set of headphones and was listening intently, while making scribbled notations on a notepad in front of him.

“Hey,” Dean said quietly, so as not to startle Benny.

“Hey brother.” Benny glanced up with a grin. “Gotta say, learnt more in a whole day followin’ the Prof around than I did all of senior year.”

Dean grinned. “Any hassles?”

“Nah. All clear.” Benny tossed the book onto the table. The sound must have alerted Castiel, because he pulled off the headphones.

“Detective?” His voice was worried.

“Hey Cas.” Dean grinned warmly, bending down to pat Shy as she wriggled in delighted greeting at his feet.

“Dean.” Castiel seemed relieved. “Is everything alright?”

“Yep. Just coming in for my shift.” Dean leaned against the doorway. “What do you still have to get done here?”

“Maybe fifteen minutes? I would like to get these notes for Kevin to sort in the morning.”

“Take your time. I gotta debrief with my partner here anyway.”

Castiel nodded, returned the headphones and focussed on his computer again.

“I want to convince him to get to a safe house,” Dean said as soon as Castiel was distracted.

“I dunno, brother. What if Taylor isn’t really after him? We ain’t heard nothing of anyone else gettin’ hit. Or even followed?”

“Maybe.” Dean squinted thoughtfully, his gaze resting on Castiel.

“Look, I know ya like him, but maybe that’s messin’ some with ya decision makin’ process.” Dean looked sharply at Benny, who held up his hands in the universal symbol of surrender. “Just sayin’.”

The two men went through the minutiae of the day, Dean updating Benny on the investigation. When Castiel took off his headphones again, Benny was telling Dean about his date, making Dean erupt in gales of laughter. It had not gone well, it seemed.

“I am finished,” Castiel said simply. “We can depart.”

“You got it.” Dean gained his feet.

 

They headed for the main doors.

“I need to enter the codes. You had better wait outside the doors. They don’t give much time to exit.” Castiel gestured at the ancient alarm system.

Dean held open the door, as he and Benny chatted, waiting for Castiel to enter the passcode. He glanced down the empty corridor, and back. He paused. Frowned. Looked back down to the end of the corridor.

“Benny? Did you dismiss the uniforms?”

“Huh? No.” Benny shook his head.

“Shit. Cas. Wait.”

“Dean?”

“Lock the doors. Wait for me. Not sure if we have a problem here.”

“What’s happening?”

“The uniform isn’t at his post. Just give us a moment.” Dean pulled his service weapon from its holster.

Benny had his service weapon out already, with his phone to his ear. He hung up. “They aren’t answering.” He dialled another number while Dean skirted the side of the building, moving slowly, gun pointed at the ground. “We got a problem at the university. Uniform detail isn’t answering. We are investigating but we will need backup asap.”

Dean was crouching at the stairwell. “Shit, Benny. Call it in. Smith is down. Looks like someone shot him.”

“Still alive?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Shit.” Benny snarled the update into his phone. “Come on. We need to get Novak somewhere secure.”

“Get hold of campus security as well.” Dean squinted as he scanned the campus grounds. Only a handful of students were visible, drifting from libraries or late labs. “See if they have anything on their monitoring.”

Benny nodded and made the call. “Hey, its Detective Lafitte. You got cameras on the Physics building? Yeah?” He waited a moment while Dean made his way back to the building, then followed him. “Great. Can you tell me if you see anyone loitering outside the main building?”

Benny sighed. “That’s me, you moron. Look. I’m waving. Me.”

Dean called Castiel. “Hey Cas, we have a problem. Big time. We have back up on the way, can you let me in?”

The sound of a single shot rang out. He rammed his phone into his jacket pocket, lifted his gun in both hands and slammed with his back to the door, fought through the adrenalin rush to work out if he had been hurt. No. He was fine. He peered out briefly and his heart went into his throat.

“Benny!” He cried out.

A second shot, and the brickwork beside his head shattered into shards that bit into his skin.

The door opened and an arm shot out, grabbing him by the shirtfront and pulling him into the building. He struggled. “No. Benny is out there. I gotta get him.” He landed against Castiel’s chest, strong arms wrapped around him.

“You aren’t going to get shot too.” Castiel’s calm voice and rigid forearm prevented him from scrambling back out of the door. “Come on, Dean. Back up is coming, you have to keep me safe.” When Dean gripped his forearm, as though he would wrench it away, he hardened his voice. “I can’t do this on my own.”

Dean stilled, took a calming breath. “Okay. Yeah.” He felt Castiel’s arms release. He got to his feet and gripping Castiel’s hand, pulled him up. “We need a secure room. Something I can barricade until backup arrives.”

Castiel frowned, thinking. “The labs on the second floor. One of them has a heavy security doors, only one that needs code access.”

“Okay, let’s go.”

“Wait.” Castiel curled his hand in the back of Dean’s jacket. “Shy. Follow.” The dog was shivering in fear, small whines coming from her throat. “Go to the end of the corridor. Set of stairs up. I’m going to slow you down, I’m sorry.”

Dean gripped Castiel’s shoulder briefly. “I will keep you safe.”

 

Dean had both hands on his gun, moving steadily down the hallway. He felt Castiel’s grip at his back, and heard the brush of his fingers along the wall as he oriented himself. They got to the stairwell door.

“Wait a moment. I need to secure the stairs.”

 

Castiel nodded, kept his hand on the wall, containing his breathing. He tilted his head, listening. After a moment, he could hear the sound of glass shattering down the other end of the corridor. The door opened again, Dean’s voice was quiet and close. “It’s clear.”

“Get my hand to the railing, I can get myself up. You had better come up after me. I think they are at the doors.”

Dean’s voice went hard. “Shit. Okay.” He grabbed Castiel’s hand and put it on the railing. “Go. Go.”

Castiel started climbing, stumbling on the second step, clipping it with the toe of his boot. He caught himself, took a calming breath, then started scrambling up the stairs. He knew these stairs. He had walked them a thousand times in the past six years.

He hit the top of the landing with a stumble, miscounting the stairs with his heart in his throat.

“Alright?” He heard Dean ask.

“Fine, fine. Down here. Lab Fourteen. Fourth, no...fifth door on the left.”

“What’s the code?”

“Two six two nine four four.”

Dean grabbed his hand again, and put it on his shoulder. Castiel gripped his jacket. Dean moved down the hallway, and paused. Castiel heard him input the code and the responding beep meant the door unlocked. Castiel let go of Dean and pushed open the handle and pictured the layout of the room in his head. He moved through the room.

He heard Dean’s phone buzz.

“Winchester….We are in a secure room. How far are you?... Shave some time off that. They are in the building.” Dean’s voice was very flat as he gave the report. “Benny went down. Not sure if he is alive...Just get here.” He hung up.

Castiel slid down against a machine, and Shy curled in against him. He patted her soothingly. He leaned his head back against the cool metal.

“Come on...come on…” Dean muttered again. “Macon. I need you to get into the house, pack up a couple of bags. Take them to the precinct. Get the dog’s gear too. We are moving the Professor. Cas. You need anything in particular?”

Castiel closed his eyes, feeling like his life was spiraling beyond his control. Dean waited, then continued.

“Toiletries, that kind of thing...maybe a week...Good. Yeah. No it’s gone to shit here. Just keep your head down...Yeah thanks.” He hung up.

He approached Castiel with steady footsteps. His voice came first from at height, then lower as he knelt. “You doing alright?” The question was all cop, no warmth, as though he was barely holding his centre.

“I’m fine.”

“Okay, just stay down. Back up is three minutes out. I’m going to watch at the window.”

His footsteps went back to the small window in the door.

Castiel leaned his arm on his knee, pressing his fingers into his eyes. Too many people hurt for his sake. Too many who could be hurt because he couldn’t see. Because he was a liability to everyone around him. To Dean.

Over the faint hum of the laboratory, he could hear footsteps down the hall outside. He stilled completely, hand on Shy’s collar. She wouldn’t move. She was too well trained. She wouldn’t make a sound. Nor would he. He wouldn’t get Dean hurt. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for physical violence.   
> Warning for PTSD fallout.

Dean could hear the footsteps coming down the hallway. He had his back to the wall, ear pressed close.

“C’mon, handsome…” The feminine voice was jarring. “Just let me have the pretty professor.

Dean hissed out a breath.

“We won’t stop coming for him. Boss’s orders.” The singsong tone was haunting.

He slipped the safety from his weapon.

She started knocking rhythmically on each door, the squeak of hinges resounding as she hunted them.

Tap. Tap. Tap. Squeaaaaak.

Tap. Tap. Tap. Squeakkkkk.

“Come on, little police man with your little gun. You can find out whether your partner survived the bullet I put in him? Don’t you want to find out? He’s out there, bleeding, right now. Drip.” Tap. “Drip”. Tap. “Drip”. Squeaaakk.

Dean flinched as the door beside him shook a little in its hinges.

“Ohh, have I found your hidey hole, Professor Novak?” A light shone in the tiny window. “Locked ourselves in, nice and cosey, have we?”

Tap. Tap. TAP. The window rattled under the force of the final blow. “Come out, come out,” she taunted.

Dean caught the flash of bright red lipstick in the reflective glare. It triggered a vague impression for him. He frowned, trying to catch a hold of the memory, but it was tugged away when a shot was fired, turning the thick glass of the window into crazed chunks. Dean covered his face and dove behind a piece of equipment that hummed when he landed against it.

He brought up his arm and fired at the window. The explosive sound echoed in the lab.

The laughter in the hallway was loud.

“Missed me, little police man. The question is, can your friends get here, before I get in and get the professor?”

“You and your boss are going down,” Dean shouted.

“To who?” Her voice was filled with laughter. “You?”

Another shot had him flinching as the machine he was leaning against ground to a halt, its innards grinding to a halt.

“Are you hurt?” Dean could hear Castiel from the other side of the room.

“Yeah. Just stay down. I can hear the sirens. They are here.”

Two more shots had Dean moving backwards. He crouched, came up in his new position and fired again at the window. Her shadow ducked out of sight again.

Dean felt his phone buzz. He lifted it to his ear.

“Get in here. Second floor.”

“Tell them they have ten seconds, then the door is going to pop right on open.” Her giggle caused a sick coil in his gut.

“Ten.”

“Nine.” Dean sprinted for Castiel’s cover.  

“Eight.”

Her voice started coming from further away.

“Seven.”

“Six.”

He wrapped his hand around the back of Castiel’s head and drew him close, putting his body between Cas and the door.

“Fuck,” Castiel muttered into Dean’s shoulder.

“I got you.” Dean murmured into his hair. “Just stay down.”

“Three.”

“Two”

“One”

The door bowed inward as it’s two hinges and the locks blew out. Dean hunched, feeling the gut swooping change in pressure as heat replaced air. He brought up his weapon, squinting through the haze and low light. Her shadow appeared beside the doorway and he fired. He cried out at the incredible stripe of pain as a bullet seared past his arm as she came into the room. He fired again. She dove sideways. His arm was going numb and tingly, and he switched out hands.

“It’s over, Professor.” Her voice was harsh as it came from inside the room. “That cop with you can’t protect you when he is dead. Surrender and I won’t hurt him. You for him. You want anyone else to die because of you.”

“Don’t listen to her,” Dean muttered, his ears still ringing. He struggled to a crouch, hindered by his aching arm. He fired blindly around the back of the machine, trying to work out where she was.

Too late, a shadow moved in his periphery, and the woman that had bumped into him earlier stood there with a pistol in either hand, one with a glaring penlight over the barrel. She stood, legs akimbo, a smile on her richly painted lips.

“Well hi there, handsome. Sorry it had to come to this. You should have just let me have him.”

She kept one gun trained on Castiel, the other, along with her gaze, on Dean. She moved carefully, keeping her distance. “Lower the gun, officer.”

“You don’t have to do this.” Dean murmured, crouching to lower the gun to the ground. He refused to look at Castiel. He couldn’t draw her attention to him.

She quirked a smile. “Yeah. I kind of do. My boss doesn’t like it when his people fail him.” Her finger coiled around the trigger. “No loose ends.”

In the next heartbeat, everything went insane. There was a blur of motion as Castiel shoved himself up off the ground and tackled the woman around the waist. Dean scrambled for his gun as one of hers skated across the ground. Her face was snarled in a rictus of anger as she tried to shove Castiel off her.

Dean grabbed his weapon, brought it up in two hands and his heart nearly stopped at the sight of Benny, his hand clutched to his shoulder from which blood poured, the other holding his service weapon. He looked grey faced and his voice was a little shakey.

“Believe me when I say, bitch, that ya wanna be droppin’ that there firearm about now. I will have no issues blowin’ a hole in that pretty skull, just to return tha favour.”

She snarled her anger and dropped the weapon, holding her hands above her head.

The clatter of booted feet announced the arrival of several uniforms. A variety of service weapons pointed into the room. Dean sat down on his butt, staring at Benny, who backed off happily when told. He replaced his weapon and flexed hands that were suddenly shaking.

Then Castiel was kneeling beside him, his hands touching Dean carefully.  

“You are hurt.” His incredible face was pale, dirt smeared, and wracked with worry.

“Just a graze, Cas. I’m alright. A band aid will have me all fixed.”

 

“Welcome to my home.” Dean opened the door of his apartment. Castiel followed, Shy’s nails clicking on the wooden floorboards. Dean carried the bags Macon had packed for Castiel and dumped them on the couch. He checked his watch. It was nearing midnight.

“Thank you, Dean. I know this must be putting you out.”

“It’s fine. I prefer it. There is a cop right outside, and downstairs. Two out on the street. There is one entrance, one exit. And unless Taylor can fly, he’s not getting up to the fifth floor.”

Castiel stood hesitantly. “What is the layout?”

“You are in the entryway, I’m standing in the lounge room to your right. Straight through to the left is the kitchen. Hallway to your left leads to the bedroom at the end, bathroom on your immediate left, toilet second door. Room at the end on the left has some junk in it. I only have the one bed, sorry. You can take it, I will bunk down out here.”

“No.” Castiel said emphatically, stepping into the room. “You were wounded this evening because of me. You will sleep in your own damn bed.”

Dean wearily ran his hand through his hair, and regretted moving his arm in the automatic gestures. He grimaced. Fucking ow. The stitches the ER doc had put in pulled like a bitch and he refused to take painkillers. Not until he got home at least. Benny was admitted while they monitored him. Tough bastard. And he was too tired to argue.

“It’s a queen size. We are both adults. Don’t steal the blankets,” Dean said gruffly. “I need a shower first. I think Macon packed some of that tea you like. I have a kettle on the kitchen bench. Bottled water on the bench top.”

“Dean.”

“Yeah?”

Castiel approached slowly, letting Shy lead him around furniture he would otherwise run into. He held out his hand. After a moment, Dean’s hand covered his. He stepped closer, cautiously releasing Shy’s handle.  

“Thank you for saving my life tonight.” He ran his hand up Dean’s arm, found the dressing under the short sleeve of his t-shirt, a frown creasing his brow. “Both you and Benny were hurt for my sake tonight.”

“Cas.” Dean curved his hand over Castiel’s cheek. “You were a cop. You know why we do this job, why we put the badge on in the morning.” He let a touch of amusement enter his voice. “You saved my life too, you know. With that tackle.”

Castiel grimaced. “It would have been intensely embarrassing if I had missed.”

“And painful.” Dean smoothed his thumb over Castiel’s cheek. He leaned forward and brushed a gentle kiss over those incredible lips. At first Castiel didn’t respond, then he made a soft sound and wrapped his arm around Dean’s neck, leaning in. Dean wrapped his arm around Castiel’s waist and pulled him close, sinking into the kiss.

Shy huffed impatiently, and plonked her butt down. Still wearing the harness, she was still on duty, but she yawned widely and sprawled at the feet of the two men.

It was many long minutes before they broke apart, their foreheads pressed together, breathing hard.

“I need...shower. Probably...cold,” Dean murmured.

“I will remove Shy’s harness, and might I borrow a towel.”

Dean gave a half smile. “You got it. I won’t steal all the hot water.”

 

Dean slid into the bed beside Castiel. The other man had stubbed his toe twice, knocked his shin three times in the preparation for bed. Dean had put clean sheets onto his mattress, and Castiel had lay down with a groan.

“This bed is so comfortable.”

“Yeah. It’s pretty amazing.” Dean thumped his pillow and yanked the blankets up.

“Good night, Dean.”

“Night, Cas.”

 

Dean snorted awake before dawn. Darkness still held the world when he blinked the sleep from his eyes. What had woken him?

He turned his head.

Castiel lay on his back, his arm outflung between them. He must have struck Dean with it. The cotton shirt he wore was rucked up and his other hand was splayed over the bare skin of his belly. In the low light of the room, Dean could see his brow was creased in a frown. While he watched, a distressed groan hissed from his lips.

“Gabe… no. Gabe…”

His back arched, and his hand clawed on his stomach, leaving red streaks.

“Dean,” he mumbled something incomprehensible.

Dean levered himself up on his elbow as Cas groaned again. Carefully, he reached over and touched him on the hand.

“Hey. Cas.” His voice was low.

“No. No...no..no…” Castiel murmured.

Dean could feel his hand trembling under his. “Cas. Hey. Wake up. It’s just a nightmare.”

Castiel’s arm flung out again, and he fended off the blow. Out of self defence, he folded his arm over Castiel’s torso. Castiel struggled a moment before his eyes flew open.

“Stop! No..” He shouted.

“Cas. It’s me,” Dean growled low. “Stop. Hey. It’s me.”

Castiel’s pulse was thundering. Dean could feel his panic, the waves of heat flowing off his skin. But he gasped. “Dean?”

“Yeah. Hey. It’s me.” Dean didn’t move, just kept his arm around Castiel. “You were having a nightmare.”

“Yeah.” Castiel rose a shaking hand to his brow.

“You get them often?”

“Just lately.” Castiel grimaced.

Dean went to move back to his side of the bed.

“Wait. Please. Just a bit longer.” Castiel grabbed his forearm. “If you don’t mind.”

Dean yanked up the blankets to cover them both. He spooned up beside Castiel, who shifted a little to accommodate him. Cas smelled like his soap. He pulled him against his chest, linking his fingers with Castiel’s.

“I got you,” he murmured.    

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Psst - the red head was Abbadon.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A rude awakening...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of fluff before we dive back into the action!

Castiel gasped awake, the overwhelming sensation of being trapped bringing the hot sting of panic through his blood. He took a breath, then two, as he assessed his surroundings and relief quickly overtook the panic.

Dean’s arm lay heavy on his ribcage, his hand in a boneless curl on the mattress. His solid chest radiated warmth and the wash of his breath was steady on the back of his neck. More confusion came when Castiel explored further and his hand encountered the solid ball of fluff coiled up near his stomach. When he touched it, it stretched. _Dean said he had a cat, right?_

With a scrabble of paws on the solid wood flooring, Shy had awakened and stuck her nose over the side of the mattress as she normally did when he awoke.

What ensued was the most horrendous sound Castiel had ever experienced. The ball of fluff became a raging, hissing mass disconcertingly near his groin. A yelp came from Shy, who then began barking at the top of her lungs. The claws scrambled over his chest, then apparently over Dean’s head because the swearing from Dean was impressive.

“Wha’ the fuck? You little bitch...you clawed me..shit.”

Dean’s arms tightened briefly then left him as he sat upright in bed.

Castiel winced. “Shy! Shy! Enough! Stop!”

He slung his legs out of bed, and reached out for his dog. Shy was quivering all over with excitement, still barking merrily at the hissing feline now perched on top of the bed head. “Come on. Out. Out!” Castiel grabbed her collar and yanked her from the room, stubbing his toe on something solid beside the door. “Fuck. Ow!” He limped down the hallway, still hanging onto Shy’s collar.

There was banging on the front door.

“Winchester! Winchester? Everything alright in there?”

Castiel snapped at Shy. “Stop. Sit. Now.” Shy subsided into subdued sulking. Castiel yanked open the door. The officer paused.

“Uhh, Professor Novak? Is everything alright?”

“Yeah. Yeah.” Castiel rubbed his brow wearily. “Just fine. Dog met cat. Unexpectedly.”

“You’re bleeding, sir.”

“What? Where?” Dean’s voice came from behind him.

“It’s just a scratch. Shy scared the hell out of your cat.”

Dean groaned. “God, I didn’t even think. The cat usually sleeps on the bed. Shit. Sorry.”

“Shy should know better.” Castiel’s voice was still disapproving.

“Hey, girl. Let’s have a look.” Dean’s voice was gentle, crouching down.

Castiel frowned.

“Ouch. She got you good. You guys had better stay away from each other, huh?”

He heard Dean pat Shy when her collar rattled. Castiel just shook his head and sighed. “I’m putting on the kettle.”

“Need coffee, Adams?” Dean asked the officer.

“That would be appreciated, sir.”

“When are you being relieved?”

“In an hour and a half.”

“Thanks.”

“No worries, sir. Wasn’t going to let anything happen to you or the professor.”

“Any word on Detective Lafitte?”

“Yeah. The guys downstairs got word. He’s out of surgery, in general wards.”

“Thank fuck.” Dean breathed a sigh of relief.

Castiel heard from the kitchen and dipped his chin to his chest in relief. He ran his fingers over the cupboards, opening each and gingerly trying to work out which one had the cups. The counter already had the tea bags and the coffee ground container. He missed his perfectly organised kitchen. Very much.

It took three tries.

The first cupboard held various spice containers and supplies. The second had plates and bowls. The third had glass and mugs. He carefully brought down several, coffee enough for the cops watching out for them as well.

After a while, the front door closed, and they were left in quiet. Dean must have come to the kitchen because his voice was suddenly near.

“Well that was quite the wakeup call.”

“Unexpectedly so.”

He felt warmth envelop him as Dean approached and folded him in a hug from behind. “How are you doing this morning?”

Castiel leaned back, just a little, finding the embrace comforting. He knew Dean wasn’t talking about the sudden wake up call. “I expected the nightmares to return. I’m sorry that I woke you.”

Dean’s arms tightened. “No. Nothing to be sorry about. We are in a completely fucked up situation at the moment...but I was glad I was there. You shouldn’t have to face the fallout of what happened alone.”

Castiel hesitated. Then: “I was glad you were there too.”

Dean released him only when the kettle sang its readiness. “I will get the milk.”

The fridge door opened, then closed. Dean put his hand lightly on Castiel’s back and slid the milk container onto the counter.

Dean disappeared out of the door a few minutes later to deliver the coffee, and came back to his on the low coffee table in the loungeroom and Castiel ruefully rubbing his shin.

Dean sat down next to Castiel and studied his face. His hair was delightfully mussed, in a way that made him wish he was the one responsible for it. Shadows still sat under his eyes and lines were still etched beside his mouth, but he looked good.

“What is our next move?” Castiel asked, sipping his tea.

Dean drew his leg up, propping the heel on the edge of the couch. “Honestly? I’m in a holding pattern until they question the woman that tried to take you down. We get her to roll on Taylor, you can go back to your life. I put in my statement that she mentioned her ‘boss’, but she didn’t call him by name.” He rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. “I hate not being on the ground for this.”

“You should be. I am safe enough here. I am going to take leave until this is resolved. I refuse to put anyone at the university in danger again.”

“Cas…”

“You have to. You have to know what is going on out there.”

Dean sighed. “Yeah, I do.” He rubbed his chin with his thumb. “Are you sure you will be okay here?”

Castiel nodded slowly. “Yes, I will be quite alright. Marking. I have to send in my lessons to Kevin to give the replacement lecturer.”

“The new uniforms coming on duty will stay here today. If you need anything, ask them. You need anything from home, give me a call, I can swing by and pick up whatever you need.” Dean checked his watch and sighed. “I need to get organised then.” He drained his cup and stood up. He paused and studied Castiel. And couldn’t help but smile. He was done for. The guy was incredible - brave as fuck, kept it together when Dean nearly lost it, the bluest eyes he had ever seen, lips he just couldn’t seem to stop kissing… and he was rambling. Castiel was frowning. Even that looked amazing.

“Is everything alright?’ Castiel asked, his head tilted in query.

“Yeah. Just thinking.” Dean was smiling like an idiot, despite the events of the past few days clouding his brain.

“You do that very loudly.”

Dean laughed. “Alright. I’m getting ready.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry. I'm afraid work is back with a vengeance and it exhausts me physically and mentally. I hope you enjoy this chapter.

“You would have all heard by now about the attempted assault on Professor Castiel Novak.” Captain Singer stood at the front of the room, addressing the assembled officers. “Through the efforts of Detectives Dean Winchester and Benny Lafitte, the Professor is still alive and unharmed. Detective Lafitte is doing very well in general wards, making life a misery as he flirts with all the nurses.”

There was muted laughter.

“However, I have the sincere regret to inform you all that last night former SWAT officer Michael Cohen was a victim of a fatal shooting at his place of business last night, and Lieutenant Rachel Salomaa was killed in a traffic accident as her four wheel drive came off the road.” Bobby tugged on his beard.

Silence was complete in the room and all Dean could think, sitting in the front row, was Oh shit. Cas. He closed his eyes and dropped his chin to his chest. It was a few moments before he realised Singer was still talking.

“...has engaged a lawyer. Harvelle and Fitzgerald, continue with your questioning of Ms Sands. The lawyer will probably block your attempts, but we have some pretty damning eyewitness statements.

“The investigations will continue into connecting Cohen and Salomaa’s murders. I wish I had better news - but for now, I can only say, give nothing to the press, keep your heads down and your eyes open. Harvelle, Fitzgerald and Winchester, in my office now, please.”

The room dispersed as Dean met Ellen’s sharp glance.

 

“Someone is feeding Malachi Taylor information from within the department.”

Dean frowned in confusion at Captain Singer. “What?”

“Michael Cohen was in a safe house. No one should have known where he was.”

“Aside from those assigned to protect him,” Dean couldn’t keep the snarl from his voice. “Who the fuck is it?”

Bobby looked drawn and old. “When I went through the names of those who knew the location of the SWAT team, I came up who way too many. I stupidly figured we were all on the same page, and we had enough distance from the bullshit back then that the department was clear of Malachi Taylor. Winchester, we need to move Professor Novak. He is in very severe danger. I am aware he was at your apartment last night.”

Dean’s jaw flexed and he flushed a little. “It was the best course of action on short notice, Captain.”

“Yes. It was. I’m not questioning you, Winchester. But it’s a short term solution. By tonight, I want him on total lockdown in a place Taylor can’t get to, and no one outside this room knows.”

Ellen scowled thoughtfully, “What about putting him in with Speight? Half the officer power to look after them.”

The Captain considered it. “If something else doesn’t present itself. How did interrogation go last night, Fitzgerald?”

“Fine and dandy, Captain.” Garth had his hands in his pockets and his good natured face was cheerful. “She thinks I’m the prize idiot of the bunch. Just softenin’ her up real nice for Ellen to have a go.”

For the first time, Ellen grinned. “You’re the brains, I’m the brawn, Garth.”

“You know it, sister.” Garth winked.

“Can it, you idjits,” Singer snapped. “I want that confession that Taylor is connected to all of this.”

“You got it, Captain.”

“I want constant updates. Dismissed.”

 

Dean followed Ellen and Garth. “I want in on the interview.”

“No can do, good buddy,” Garth said goodnaturedly. “Compromise the investigation with you bein’ involved as ya are. We gotchya statement, been usin’ it to push the right buttons. She’s a tough one to shake though.”

Dean scowled.

“Focus on keeping the professor safe. Go see Benny. You got shot, take it a bit quieter maybe.” Ellen studied his expression with concern and put her hand on his arm.

Dean shrugged off her touch. “Fine. But damn it, this is frustrating as hell.”

“How about checking in on Gabe Speight? We haven’t had time this morning, and we said we would drop in.”

“Yeah. Okay. Uniforms on site there?”

“Yeah. Two of them. His place a damn fortress, we didn’t figure the extra manpower was warranted.” Garth shrugged.

“You have his number, right? I will tag him before I head over.”

Ellen pulled out her phone and forwarded him the contact details of Castiel’s friend. “Appreciated.”

“Yeah, sure.”

 

Dean slammed the door of the Impala and locked it. The streets were packed and he had been forced to park a few blocks away. He had left a message with Gabe, and the guy had texted back, saying he was at home and up for visitors.

The security was impressive. Dean couldn’t even guess half of it, but there were cameras, and gates, and multiple locks. He was allowed in quite quickly and escorted by a large, silent man with a shaved head, biceps larger than Dean’s thighs and a scowl.

“Dean Winchester.” Gabriel Speight stepped out from behind a large glass and chrome desk. His immaculate suit was perfectly tailored to his body and he held out his hand.

Dean shook it. “Mister Speight.”

The room was large. The desk, two chairs before it. Walls clamouring with art that drew the eye. A gas fireplace. Large suede couches with dark red cushions. It looked expensive. And somehow comforting, as though the guy in this room could handle his shit.

“Call me Gabe. And I’m sure as hell going to call you Dean. How is Cas?” Gabe cut right to the chase, gesturing for Dean to take a seat on the couch. Gabe sat down and studied Dean from eyes that were aeons older than his youthful, generic features.

“He’s holding it together. I have him safe at mine for the moment.” Dean sat and linked his fingers together. He stared at them for a while, then looked up to meet Gabe’s eyes. “Michael and Rachael were killed by Malachi Taylor.”

Gabe’s good natured smile was gone in a flash. His eyes were dark with sudden rage. “What are you doing to make that right?”

“Everything we can.” Dean met Gabe’s sharp look with a steady one of his own. “I won’t let anything happen to Cas.”

“They came on campus last night to find him.”

Dean clenched his jaw.

Gabe help up his hands. “I keep track of my brother. And make no mistake, he is my brother.” He leaned forward. “You can’t be there all the time, lawman. I want him here.”

“That would be a mistake.”

“Why?”

“They hit here, it will be with a lot of bullets and explosions. I have seen your security and I guess there is no way that’s half of what you have on show. I want Cas well away from that.”

“He’s not helpless, Dean,” Gabe said darkly.

“He can’t dodge bullets, Gabe.”

“I can protect him.”

“So can I.”

“Why would you?” Gabe snarled.

Dean clenched his teeth, took a breath, then a second one. “Because I like him, Gabe.”

“So do I,” Gabe said irritably.

“No.” Dean leaned his elbows on his knees and stared down at his linked hands. “No. I really like him.”

Gabe sat back. There was silence. Dean glanced up and saw the small smile on the other man’s face. “Huh,” he said.

Dean fidgeted, his thumb rubbing the back of his hand. “He’s ...Cas. Y’know?”

Gabe seemed to take pity on him. “Yeah. I think I do.”

The two men talked of many things then until Dean begged his absence. He had to see Benny.

 

When he left, Gabe picked up his phone and typed in: _I like him._

 

Dean pulled into the hospital parking lot.

He stepped out of the Impala.

His last conscious thought was that he should have been paying attention.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short and sweet...because you all love cliffhangers, right?

Dean had never felt this kind of pain before. Breaking his arm when he was fourteen was close, but this smashed that into oblivion. Even though he was awake, darkness danced at the edges of his vision. He was dimly aware of pressure at his wrists, but his hands were numb, so it was hard to tell. HIs shoulders were wrenched to a painful angle as his arms were latched above his head. Flat sheets of pain radiated down his spine.

His ribs ached when he breathed, his head was crushed by a throbbing that made him want to throw up. When he raised it, his neck screamed at him. He could barely focus on the man seated lazily in front of him, his vision blurred.

“Excellent. You are awake. Apologies for the enthusiasm of my employees, but they wanted to be very certain you wouldn’t screw up my plans again.”

“Taylor…” Dean’s voice slurred.

“Indeed.” He stood up and moving to stand in front of his captive, he put his fingertips under Dean’s chin and tilted his head up, the sharklike eyes studying his face.

Dean met his gaze as steadily.

“Hmm.” Malachi Taylor tilted Dean’s chin this way and that. “You are a good looking man, Dean Winchester. A shame Novak can’t see it.” He smiled. “As I understand it the two of you are a little closer than the Seattle PD might like, hmm?”

“No.” Dean denied it flatly.

“Oh, but I hear otherwise.” Malachi slapped him lightly on the cheek and stepped back. He pulled out his phone and scrolling through a set of numbers, he selected one and dialled. He beamed at Dean as he held the phone to his ear.

_“Hello?”_

Dean could hear the concerned voice of Castiel through the speaker of the phone.

“Mister Novak. Good evening. This is Malachi Taylor. I’m going to put you on speaker phone for a moment.”

“ _What have ..._ “ The tinny voice on the other end exploded into rich tones of anger. _“...you done with Dean?”_

“For now your boyfriend is fine,” Taylor drawled. “Go on, Dean. Say hello.”

 _“Dean?”_ Castiel snarled his name.

“I’m here, Cas.”

Malachi removed the speaker phone and put it back to his ear. “You in exhange for him, Novak. Or I kill him. You have six hours. I start hurting him in an hour, and then I will snap his neck. If I hear you have told the cops, and believe me I will hear it … I kill him right away.” He recited an address. “My men will be watching. I will release your boyfriend as soon as they have you in hand.”

_“I will end you, Taylor…”_

“Cas! No!” Dean shouted, his whole body tensing against the bonds holding him.

Malachi ended the call. He tucked the phone in his pocket and took a breath of pleasure. “Now, Dean, let’s see if we can wring some more screams from that pretty mouth.”

 

Castiel hung up, his hand trembling. He pressed the edge of his phone between his brows. Think. He had to think, but his brain was scrambled with thoughts of Dean. Shit. For not the first time, he cursed his blindness. But he wasn’t fucking helpless.

How many police did he say were on him? Three? Four?

He had to get out of the apartment without being seen and Shy had to stay here. He wasn’t going to risk her safety as well.

Moving to Dean’s bedroom, he braved Trouble’s disgusted glare at the disturbance. He dialled Gabe’s number.

_“Hey, brother, how’s things?”_

“Taylor has Dean.”

_“Nah. He was headed to the hospital, Cas.”_

“You don’t understand. I just heard from him. He has Dean. I heard Dean’s voice. They want me there and they will return him.”

There was a beat of silence. Then two.

“Gabe?”

_“I’m thinking. One moment.”_

“We can’t go to the cops.”

_“Hell no. Someone on the inside is probably feeding Taylor information. One whiff of the thin blue line and it will all go to shit. Okay. First up, we need to get you out of there. Can’t trust all the guys on the door there.”_

“I have an idea about that, but I’m going to need your help.”  

_“Anything, brother. Just say the word.”_

“Okay, here is what I want you to do…” 


	12. Chapter 12

Castiel slung a backpack over his shoulder, and secured it firmly. He hit the button on his watch and a tinny voice told him it was thirty minutes since he had called Gabe. He knelt down and called Shy. She wiggled her way into his arms and slobbered on his face.

“Okay sweetie, do your job well, okay? Sell it.”

Castiel took in a deep breath and blew it out. He yanked open the apartment door and got the expected, “Uhh, Professor? Sir? Where are you going?”

“Big dog. Small apartment. She’s gotta go for a walk and do her business.”

“It’s not safe, sir. You can’t leave your apartment.”

“And Detective Winchester will be even more pissed off if he returns and my dog has done a dump in his living room,” Castiel said, straight faced. For her part, Shy looked up at the cop, her bright eyes mischievous and the doggie version of an innocent grin.

Castiel held his breath as the cop hesitated. Then he heard the guy get on his radio.

“Hey, uhh, I gotta take the Professor’s dog for a walk. Can someone come up here and take my post?”

_“Hah! Sounds like skills right up your alley, Robbins.”_

“Shut up, Piper.”

_“Patel is on his way.”_

Castiel sighed. “Fine.” He poured on the irritation. “Here.” He held out the lead to the officer. The guy plucked it from his fingers. He headed back into the apartment and immediately moved to the balcony doors. He yanked them open.

Gabe had checked it out, the fire escape led down to street level. Cas just had to get down there.

Using only touch, he cautiously felt his way along the fragile metal staircase that wound its way down. He waited, heart in his throat for a shout but none came.

His bluetooth connection for his phone sounded in his ear. He touched it.

“Yes?”

_“At the end of the alley. Get that butt down here.”_

“Going as fast as I can, Gabe,” Castiel gritted his teeth, as he rounded the third floor. “What are the cops doing?”

_“They took a good look at my driver as he popped out and swaggered his way to the restaurant down the ways a bit. I’m just sitting here, doors and arms open.”_

“Shy?”

_“Your girl is being a sweetheart, leading the nice policeman on a nice wandering walk.”_

“I want to see her again, Gabe.”

_“You will see her and your boyfriend again.”_

“Dean’s not my boyfriend.”

_“That is just a matter of conversation. One more set of stairs, brother, then you got the ladder.”_

“Cops?”

_“Still oblivious. Not sure whether to be relieved or really pissed off on your behalf.”_

“Right now, let’s go with relieved.”

_“I’m still going to write a nice long letter of complaint.”_

“You do that.” Castiel rang his fingers along the railing. The gap of it told him where the ladder was.

_“Take it easy, Cas. That ladder is gonna knock you on your ass if you ain’t careful.”_

Castiel gripped the ladder and gave it a hard pull. It ratcheted downward, and he swung his leg over the side and clambered down slowly and cautiously. At the bottom of the steps, he flicked out his cane.

_“Turn left, end of the alleyway.”_

Castiel swept his cane right and left as he moved slowly toward Gabriel, moving as quickly as he dared, and feeling a little uneasy without the steadiness of Shy by his side.

_“Right here waiting, brother. Little further. Side door of the van is open. One of my people will step out and help you in. I’m in the driver’s seat.”_

He could hear Gabe’s voice through his earpiece and in person, just down the end of the alleyway.

“Okay. Got it.”

A few more paces, his gut twisting into knots the further he got from the apartment. Then there was the scent of something light and citrussy, and a warm, amused voice a little ahead.

“Hi there, Cas. I’m Charlie.”

“Hi, Charlie.”

“You need an arm, or okay to get there yourself?”

“Arm will be faster.” He reached out, and Charlie shifted so his hand clasped her bicep. She moved with a rangy stride.

Within moments, Castiel was seated and buckled in, the van moving off. Gabe called back over the rumble of the engine.

“Nice work, Cas. I have been working on my end of the plan. Think I have a fun idea.”

“Sounds good to me,” Castiel said grimly. “We don’t have long.”

“My crew are meeting us near the exchange site. Charlie? Give him the goods.”

“Sure thing, boss.” Charlie shifted next to Cas on the jump seat. “Is it alright if I touch your ear? I want to give you an earpiece.”

“Go ahead,” Castiel rumbled, removing his bluetooth piece.

She fidgeted with the side of his head, and fixed an earpiece in place. “Okay,” she muttered. “Now the microphone.” She pressed her fingers against his throat. “Test that out for me, babe.”

“Testing one two.”

“Loud and clear,” Gabe’s voice was soft in his ear.

“Excellent.” Charlie slapped him on the thigh, before shifting again. He could hear her unzipping something and a solid object was placed into his hands. He studied it with his fingertips and grinned.

“I think I like where this plan is going, Gabe.”

“Thought you might, Cas.” Gabe changed to a higher gear. “Let’s go get your boyfriend.”

 

His every breath hurt.

He could feel blood trickling down his back.

The sting of burns felt like holes in his skin.

He had to stay conscious.

He knew in his heart that Cas was coming. He didn’t know how to stop it. He couldn’t let it happen.

When the door opened, he stared blearily at the dark figure that approached.

“Good news,” Malachi Taylor leaned forward, bringing his face close to Dean’s battered features. “Guess who decided to pay me a visit.”

Malachi’s smile shivered into focus as two of his henchmen released Dean’s arms. He couldn’t keep the cry from his lips at the shattering pain as he dropped to his knees. He could feel the sharp prick of pain on his palms as they met cold cement.

He was yanked to his feet and dragged after Malachi.

 

Dean’s knees went out from under him when he saw the lone figure at the other side of the warehouse.

Cas.

Standing there like he was waiting for his students to be quiet.

The tip of his white stick rested lightly on the ground, his shirt buttoned up to his neck, his blue striped tie neatly knotted.

“Release Detective Winchester, Taylor.” The sound of Castiel’s voice had Dean closing his eyes.

“Of course. Of course,” Malachi said cheerily.

“No tricks, Taylor,” Castiel replied easily. "Dean doesn't appear out that door, some friends of mine are going to pay you a visit."

Malachi held up his hands in supplication. “Wouldn’t dream of it. I just want you, Novak.”

“Send him to me. When he leaves the warehouse, I come to you.”

Malachi’s eyebrow twitched then he shrugged. “Go ahead.”

“I’m going to hunt you down, Taylor,” Dean muttered, as one of the henchmen undid the bonds on his hands.

“You’re tough. I will give you that.” Malachi stepped closer to Dean. “But you are going to have to go a long, long way to find me, Dean Winchester. Don’t be that stupid.”

“How do I know you aren’t just going to shoot me in the back as soon as I start walking?”

Malachi grinned. “You don’t.”

Dean stumbled a little as he was pushed. He walked toward Castiel as quickly as he could, with his back as straight as he could. With every step, he expected the burning pain of a bullet.

“Cas…” His voice dropped low as he drew near. “You shouldn’t have come.”

“How could I not?”

Dean rose his hand and touched Castiel on his face. “You can’t do this.” Tears stung his eyes. “I only just found you.”

“Just hold me a moment.” Castiel’s voice went soft.

“Come on, come on!” Malachi shouted.  

Dean gripped Castiel by the jacket, then wrapped his arms fiercely around him.

When he finally drew back, he stared steadily at Castiel, memorising every line of his face.

“Trust me,” Castiel whispered.

Dean swallowed hard, and released him. “I do.”


	13. Chapter 13

Castiel held Dean close. He could feel the tremble in his body, speaking of intense pain, he could smell the blood on his skin and vowed to make Taylor pay for every blow. He would see this gorgeous, brave man again.   

He just had to hope that Taylor wanted to monologue at him for a bit and wouldn’t just out of hand shoot him. That would screw things up royally.

He got the notification in his ear piece that the Angels were in position.

“Trust me,” he murmured.

“I do,” Dean’s voice was a low rumble. Castiel felt the brush of his fingers over his cheek and tried to ignore his thundering heart and twisted gut.

“See you soon,” Castiel caught Dean’s hand, then released it.

He felt Dean move past him

 

Dean moved stiffly for the entrance of the warehouse. He didn’t even look back. He couldn’t.

He looked down at the palm of his hand and blinked at the ear piece sitting in it. He kept going, slowly raised his hand to the side of his head and slipped the ear piece into his ear.

_“Hi Dean. My name is Charlie. I’m one of the Guardian Angels watching out for Castiel right now. Keep moving straight forward. Do not turn your head but there is a guy just on your left covering you.”_ The woman’s voice was so warm, so reassuring that he wanted to weep. His steps slowed. _“You can do this, Dean. You can’t help Castiel right now but he is going to need you soon. You don’t have a weapon and you are badly wounded. Let us look after him and let our team medic check you out. Cas left pretty strict instructions that you were to be looked after.”_

Dean swiped a shaking hand down his mouth, rasping his palm against his unshaved jaw.

_“A van is going to pull up in a moment and you are going to see a smoking hot redhead wave at you when she opens the side door. That would be me. I’m gonna keep you nice and safe.”_

Dean took a step, then another one, and a nearly silent vehicle swooped in. The side door slid open, and a lanky redhead with short, choppy curls and a beaming smile stepped out. Dean stopped.

“Charlie?” He rasped.

“Hi, honey.” Charlie’s surprisingly strong arms wrapped around him. “Let’s look after you.”

Dean stumbled toward the side of the van and took a seat, sliding across to the window side.

“Let’s go, Balty.”

_“Don’t call me that.”_ The French accented voice was irritated.

Dean leaned his head back as they bantered and closed his eyes. Tears welled and spilled down his cheeks.

“Oh sweetheart. Don’t worry. Gabe is watching out for Cas. He won’t let anything happen to him.” Charlie gripped his hand fiercely. “We are going to pull up in a moment. I know this sucks. I get you wanna be with him. Help him.”

“He’s walking right in there, Charlie.” Dean leaned forward, elbows on his knees, head drooped low. “Because of me. Because I wasn’t paying attention. He’s going to get hurt because of me.”

Charlie’s laugh was soft, filled with empathy. “He has a whole squad of Guardian Angels on him. And he is armed. Cas might be blind, but with you out of the way and Gabe guiding him a little, he’s still pretty damn deadly. Trust him, Dean.”

Dean huffed a sigh. “That’s what he said.”

“Come on.” The van pulled to a gentle halt and the door slid open. “Let’s get you patched up.”

 

Castiel muttered barely above a whisper as he moved very slowly toward Malachi and his goons. “Is he safe?”

_“And sound, brother.”_ Gabe’s voice was a murmur in his ear. _“Charlie has him. He’s on our channel if you want to talk. But you got about a dozen words because you are gonna be within hearing distance of the dick._ ”

“What’s their status?”

_“He’s just waiting. Guess he wants to chat.”_

 

_“Dean?”_

Dean jerked upright, his hand clutching at his ribs. “Cas?”

_“I’m going to make that date, Dean.”_

Charlie scrambled toward him and gave him a tiny microphone. She fidgeted with the link a moment, then nodded.

“Cas?” Dean tried again.

_“I will be right there.”_

“God. Cas.”

_“We have a road to travel, Dean. It won’t end here.”_ There was a moment of silence. _“I have to go.”_

“Be safe. Please.”

_“Your wish is my command.”_

 

Castiel could feel the moment when his connection was severed from Dean. He felt empty and very alone.

“Hello, Castiel.”

He would recognise that voice anywhere. He had listened to the recordings for months.

“Malachi.”

“I confess, I wasn’t expecting it to be this easy.”

Castiel could feel the hands of Malachi’s henchmen skimming up his legs, checking for weapons.

They were up to his knees.

“Easy? I’m not going to make this easy,” Castiel said softly.

Malachi laughed.

They checked his groin and lower back.

“Oh, Castiel. I have three loose ends to tie up. And you are as helpless as a little kitten. I almost feel bad.”

Castiel heard the ratchet of a pistol being cocked.

“Get him on his knees.” Malachi’s voice was suddenly harsh.

The hands left his sides and grabbed his shoulders to force him down.

He closed his eyes.

 

 


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And...we are done.
> 
> The next inspiration is Taming of the Shrew.   
> Tyneswedish, you are a wicked muse!

Malachi’s footsteps were slow, crunching lightly on the grimy cement floor. Castiel relaxed his shoulders. He could hear the others surrounding them. Their breathing, muttered comments, shifting weight. Gabe had told him there was five, all holding their weapons low and loose, not expecting resistance from a blind man.

It took Castiel a moment to realise the jackass was monologuing.

“...getting to you was simple. When my contact said that you and Detective Winchester were seen together, his leverage became irresistable.”

“You kidnapped a police officer, Taylor. Kidnapped and tortured.”

“Oh come on,” Malachi scoffed. “I barely touched him. He was able to walk out of here under his own steam.”

“It wasn’t necessary.” Castiel said flatly.

It got you here.” Malachi’s voice was dark with satisfaction.

“Why my team?”

“Loose end.”

“Asshole reason to kill.”

“I kill to protect what is mine.”

“How was shooting Michael Cohen and Rachel Salomaa protecting what is yours? How is killing me, right now, protecting that?”

Castiel listened to Malachi taking a snorting breath in, then a low sigh out. “Okay, so I just want to.”

Castiel said clearly, distinctly… “Got all that?”

He could hear the confusion loud and clear in Malachi’s voice. “What?”

Gabriel’s voice came through with delight. _“Got it. All yours, baby brother. Don’t forget to duck.”_

Castiel took a slow breath in.

“Didn’t you assholes check him…” Malachi bunched his hand in Castiel’s hair and yanked his head sideways. “Shit. He’s wearing a wire.”

Castiel moved so swiftly, Malachi didn’t have time to respond. Gabe murmured in his ear the whole time. Castiel, with minimal effort, locked up Malachi’s arm, drove his knee into the man’s face.

_“On your right, incoming.”_

He kicked Malachi’s legs out from under him, and knelt with his knee in the centre of his back, arm twisted up.

_“Guns, Cas, guns! Do it now!”_

From an inner pocket of his suit jacket, he took at the little object Gabe had given him earlier. He pulled the pin and ducked his head.

The sound when the flashbang detonated was deafening, and it had his ears ringing.

He got his head down, and somewhere in the buzzing, he heard the incursion team do their job. Weapons fired, grunts of pain, bodies thudding to the ground.

Malachi struggled under him. “Fucking assholes. I’m going to fucking end you. I’m going to fucking take each and every one of you down.”

Castiel leaned forward, easily pinning the man down. “That isn’t going to happen. Not now. Not ever. You are going down for all of this and you will be a very old man before you see freedom again.”

“Fuck you, Novak!”

There were grunts and groans of pain as men who had been on the receiving end of Gabe’s bean bag rounds were being secured with zip ties. Gabe himself came over, laid a hand on Castiel’s shoulder.

“Let me secure him.”

Castiel levered himself upright, standing slowly. His ears still buzzed from the grenade and he shook his head to clear it. Malachi was still shouting as his arms and legs were ziptied. Castiel sighed and a faint smile curved his lips.

 

“Sorry, boss.”

Castiel could hear Charlie’s cheerful voice over the mutters of masculine tones. He frowned. She should be with Dean. Gabe assured him she would be with Dean.

“He wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer.”

Castiel stiffened as a pair of arms wrapped around him and crushed him to a solid chest. It took him but a moment to recognise the scent of the man embracing him and relaxed.

“You scared the shit out of me, Cas,” Dean muttered

“I told you to trust me,” Castiel said in his quiet way.

He felt Dean draw away a little, his hands running over his arms. It felt oddly comforting. “You took him down so fast.” His voice was admiring.

Castiel quirked a faint smile, a moment before he was being kissed with such demand and a little hint of relief that his brain spun, and he responded without thinking, reaching up to cup Dean’s face in his hands.

The sound of whistling and clapping, hoots and hollers had them breaking the kiss. Castiel could feel his face hot with embarrassment. He wondered if Dean blushed as badly as he did.

“Jackasses,” Castiel said loudly.

“They saved your life, Cas. They can say whatever they want,” Dean said emphatically, wrapping his hand around Castiel’s.

“You two are just fucking adorable,” Charlie said in Castiel’s ear just before she wrapped her arm over his shoulder. “Come on, handsome. We need to get you to the hospital.”

Castiel reached out for Dean and put his hand on his chest. The rough fabric of a police uniform met his fingers. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m fine.” Dean said gruffly.

“You have two broken ribs, multiple contusions, a probable concussion,” Charlie corrected.

“Dean…” Castiel said gruffly. “You should already be on your way to the emergency room.”

“He refused to go until you were safe. He’s more stubborn than you, Cas,” Charlie patted his shoulder pityingly.

Dean sighed. “Fine. I will go to the damn hospital. They will tell me I’m just fine, and I can go home.”

“No.” Castiel said flatly. “No. You will go home, pack a bag, and your damn cat, and you are staying with me.”

There was silence at the end of his statement. He squeezed Dean’s hand. Charlie cleared her throat. “I will be over...ahh...there.” She walked rapidly away.

“Dean, it makes sense.” Castiel again wished desperately that he could see Dean’s face. “You are injured because of me. The least I could do is damn well make sure you are looked after. I have more room at my home, and I know where everything is and -”

He was interrupted by another kiss, this one gentle but no less demanding. It was many long moments before Dean broke away enough to say. “Okay.”

“And then we can have our first date,” Castiel continued matter-of-factly.

“I don’t know, this was pretty good. We even finished up making out. That’s a win in my book,” Dean drawled.

“Almost getting killed does not count as a date,” Castiel protested.

“Alright. Feel like spending a couple of hours in the ER with me? We could hang out, get me some Xrays. Get my booboos bandaged. Later you could kiss some of them better?”

Castiel sighed. “Do you take anything seriously?”

Dean’s voice was suddenly low and smokey in his ear. “Oh yes. Yes, I do.”

Castiel felt the rush of heat to his face, and his groin.

Gabe’s voice interrupted. “Come on, you two. Time to get going. I have to drop Dean off, make a trip to have a chat to Captain Singer and deliver all our information, plus these assholes.”

Dean grunted his agreement, and he and Cas held hands all the way to the van.

  
  


**Epilogue - some months later.**

Dean fumbled the keys into the lock by sheer force of will. He was exhausted but his case was closed. The scent of something good met him as he opened the door.

“Cas?” he called into the house. Trouble padded into the entryway and wound her way around his legs. “Hey you.” He bent down and scratched her side.

The scrabble of claws heralded the arrival of Shy. Trouble stiffened and a low growl emitted from her throat. Shy approached hesitantly, clearly used to such greetings from the feline family member. Dean rubbed her ears. “Hey, where’s daddy?”   

Shy panted, her eyes bright and followed him through into the kitchen. Castiel was standing at the stove, methodically stirring a rich pasta sauce. The kitchen benches were scattered with peelings, jars and a variety of knives.

“Hey.” He greeted Castiel, sliding his hand over his boyfriend’s back, and kissing the side of his neck.

“Hi.” Castiel pursed his lips, skimmed his fingertips over the bench to where a spoon lay on a plate. He scooped a small amount of the sauce. “Try this?”

Dean complied and the rich flavours exploded over his tongue. “Holy shit. That’s really good, Cas. So what did I do to deserve getting out of making dinner tonight?”

“I felt like cooking.” Castiel leaned in, kissed him. “Go have a shower. This will be ready in twenty.”

“You got it.” Dean stole another kiss, before heading for their bedroom.

He had moved in a few months ago. It was inevitable, really. It had taken some adjustment. Sometimes he forgot to put things back properly. Sometimes his cat tripped Cas up. Sometimes Cas stayed up too late marking essays. Sometimes Dean was called away from their time together to work a case. But they made it work.

When he sluiced the crap of the day off his skin, he dressed in a clean shirt and jeans. He tossed his clothing into the laundry basket, and skimmed water from the floor. Cas had fallen once when he had forgotten. Cas hadn’t been mad, just calmly reminded him, but Dean had been angry at his own thoughtlessness for days.

Dean headed out, bare feet silent on the tiles. Castiel had set the table in precise lines and placed each plate piled with steaming pasta before their chairs.

“Can you pour the wine?”

 

Dinner was delicious, and afterwards they lay on the couch, Dean leaning back into Castiel’s arms while they finished the wine as Die Hard played on Cas’ widescreen.

“How was work?” Castiel asked suddenly.

“Finished up that case today.” Dean idly traced his fingertips along Castiel’s thigh. “DA is going to press for murder one.”

“Excellent. I’m a little relieved that you might be home before midnight for the next few nights.”

Dean paused and shifted a little, turning so he could look at Castiel’s face. “I’m sorry. But...it’s the job, y’know.”

A frown appeared between Castiel’s brows. “I’m saying this badly.”

Dean stilled. His heart went cold. He shifted back. “Cas?”

Castiel raised his hand and pressed against his temple.

“Are you unhappy?” Dean asked hesitantly. “I’m a cop. I can’t...change when people get hurt. I can’t…”

“Dean, shit! No…” Castiel reached out for him, but met nothing but air. “Wait. I’m doing this badly.”

“If you want out, you just to…”

“Shut up!” Castiel reached out, his palm up. “For fuck sake, Dean, please take my damn hand.”

Dean curled his palm over Castiel’s. “Cas, you are freaking me out here, man.”

“Marry me.”

Dean blinked. “I ...what?”

“Marry me. Please.”

“Wait. You don’t want to break up with me?”

“Dean. What the fuck? No.” Castiel’s expression was one of horror. “I want you here.”

“But...I screw up. I forget something and you could be hurt.”

“Dean.” Castiel pressed his other hand to Dean’s chest, then skimmed his fingertips up to Dean’s face. “I’m blind, I’m not a damn invalid. I thought we established that months ago. You are going to forget shit. I’m probably going to get mad. The point is...we love each other anyway.

Dean turned his head to kiss Castiel’s palm.

“We live together. But I want to marry you.” Castiel’s voice was a little strained.

“You cooked for me.”

“I got a recipe.”

“It was good.”

“Dean?”

“Yes?”

“Answer the question. Please.”

“Professor Novak?”

“Detective Winchester?”

“Yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes.”

 

 


End file.
